Magnolia Close. Episode 24. Getting A Result.

Robert Farrah stepped out of Number 23 and turned to wish Nasreen goodbye for the day.

"I don’t understand why you are going into Hope when you’re on half-term," she said.

"There’s always things to be done. It’s easier to work there than at home some times, especially when the kids aren’t there. As for me, I don’t understand why your parents want to pay us a visit at such short notice."

"I suppose they might have thought with you on holiday you’d have more time."

"Teachers never get a holiday. They made it sound so pressingly urgent, though – ‘must see both of you straight away.’ What was all that about?"

"We’ll find out when we see them," she said. "Now get going and come home early."

As Robert carefully backed his Nissan out of the drive, then turned to drive off, Nasreen noticed several trails of what looked like papers in plastic packets trailing on strings from under the back of his car, and wondered what they might be. Some sort of practical joke, she wondered. Then she put the thought out of her mind and went indoors.

Tricia had heard the telephone ring but Jade had answered it first. When she entered the lounge, Jade laughing over the line.

"Oh, here’s Tricia now," she said with a grin, but still didn’t hand the call over straight away. "Perhaps see you soon," she said at last before parting with the receiver.

"Is it Jonathan?"

"Yes," Jade mouthed.

Tricia took the phone and eyed Jade curiously before speaking into the phone. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Jade still stood there watching, till Tricia indicated with irritated shake of the head to Jade that she should leave the room. She listened to Jonathan’s answer before replying. "Good. Don’t be late."

Tricia hung up and found that, now she wanted to ask Jade a question, she had suddenly made herself scarce.

Martha took a deep breath before knocking on Brooke’s bedroom door.

"What!?" came the irritated reply.

Martha went in. Brooke had her head buried in a school-book. "Is everything OK?" said Martha.

"It would be if I didn’t keep on getting interrupted."

"We’ve left you alone, Dad and me," said Martha.

"You should tell that little twerp of a sister to do the same," said Brooke.

"Brooke, I do wish you would try to get on a little better with Celine."

"And I wish I could get on with revising – my resits are just a few days away."

Martha bit her lip. "There was something else I wanted to ask you about."

"Oh for goodness’ sake," said Brooke, bouncing off the bed, snatching up her study things.

"Where are you going?"

"I’m going into school – at least they let you study in the library and I can get some peace and quiet."

Martha wished she had handled that better. There was something she had to talk to Brooke about, resits or no resits.

"Mr Farrah!"

Robert was half way down the corridor to the staff room when he heard a familiar voice call out. "Yes, Mrs Groves."

"Your car appears to be trailing some sort of litter behind it. I would be most grateful if you would go and remove it. Your car looks like you have just been the groom at a wedding." Robert winced at this – soon he was going to be the groom at a wedding, and the thought of what tricks his friends might play on him gave him cause for concern. Mrs Groves, as headmistress of Hope Academy, was all very keen to be one of the gang with other teachers when it suited her. On other occasions, she definitely liked everyone to know she was boss and wanted things run her way.

When Robert got to his car it was almost as if his worst fears had been realised. The streamers dangling from under the car were poly-packets – the sort pupils put their homework in before handing it in to be marked, but the papers inside were anything but homework. They were photographs of a young girl who appeared to be wearing very little clothing. He looked at them appalled, then he felt his blood run cold. This was not just any young girl. They were pictures of one of his pupils. Just as he hurriedly gathered them into his arms, viciously snapping the string that held them to the vehicle, that very girl appeared on the opposite side of the car.

"Hello, Mr Farrah," said Brooke Ames.

"What are you doing her?" he asked, rather abruptly.

She gave him a "d’ur" kind of look, and said, "It’s school. I’ve come to study." Her face became oddly blank and she walked past him into the school. Robert waited till she had gone inside before giving the photos one more look. He screwed them up into a ball, unlocked the back door of the car and stuffed the pictures under the seat. Then he followed Brooke into the building.

"Brooke," he called, catching her up. "You haven’t… been anywhere near my car, have you?"

Brooke looked puzzled. "What do you mean, sir?"

"You haven’t tampered with my car in any way?"

Brooke dropped her voice and was far from deferential when she hissed, "I wouldn’t go near anything of yours. But, if I were you, I’d remember our little deal about my re-sit marks."

"I can’t do anything about the exam scripts – I can’t get near them."

"But you can alter the marks on my assessed modules. Or would you like Mrs Groves or my Dad to find out what you’ve been up to?"

Celine burst into the kitchen where Martha was preparing the evening meal, in floods of tears.

"What’s the matter, darling," said Martha, concerned.

"Look at this text I just got on my phone," she cried.

Robert Farrah was alone in the staff-room when he found Brooke Ames assignment work. It would be the work of a moment to alter the grades.

End Of Episode 24.

Magnolia Close. Episode 23. In The Clear.

“Bob, you old rascal!”

“Nice to see you again, Mark. You had no trouble finding the place then.”

“There's not that many Stormy Petrels that Google knows about. Just what exactly is a petrel?”

“It’s a kind of bird. I see Mark’s already made a start on the ale.”

“Howdy, Bob. How are you doing?”

Robert settled down with a drink. “So what brings you two reprobates here? I’ve not seen you since teacher training college.”

“Mark’s visiting family nearby and I’m here for work. We thought we could combine the two and get the old gang back together.”

“Where are you stopping?” said Robert.

“A hotel called Merlin Court. Big soulless place, quite posh but no character. We’ll be here all week.”

“Fur coat and no knickers, I’d call it,” said Andy.

“So what’s this about you being up in court?” said Mark. “You haven’t got one of your pupils banged up, have you?”

Robert grimaced. “Why don’t you say it a bit louder, Mark?” he said quietly. “I think somebody at the back of the pub didn’t quite catch that.”

At the bar, Sammy, hearing his place of employment mentioned, craned his neck to listen more carefully.

Back home, at number 23, Robert’s fiancée, Nasreen, was answering the telephone.

“Hello, Dad. How are you and Mum?”

“Never mind about us,” said Nasreen’s father, “what has that ‘boyfriend’ of yours been up to?”

“What do you mean?”

“We saw his name in the papers. It said he had been in court.” Nasreen’s mother called out to the phone over her husband’s shoulder.

“Is here there? I want to speak to him.”

“No, he’s gone out for a drink with some old college mates.”

“He leaves you alone, and goes out drinking alcohol? Are you sure this is the man you want to marry? We have been very tolerant so far but there is a limit.”

“It’s just two fellahs from his student days. He hasn’t seen them in ages. Remember, Dad, you said you were alright about this.”

“I am beginning to wonder if we are,” said her father. “It said something about misconduct with schoolgirls. I think we shall come and visit you and discuss this.”

Monday morning, and in the Ames household in number 24, Martha was helping Dennis get ready for work.

“Have you told them at work what happened?” said Martha.

“They know I was in court, because I had to take the time off. They don’t know the outcome.”

“Surely they wouldn’t sack you over just a bit of a punch-up. It’s not dishonest.”

“I’ve now got a record, thanks to him next door. And a sentence.”

“Three months prison suspended for two years,” said Martha. “There’ll be no problem as long as you stay out of trouble.”

“If I catch him looking over the fence at Brooke, there’ll be trouble alright.”

“Don’t be so silly,” she chastised him. “It’s all just been a bit of a misunderstanding. Otherwise he wouldn’t have his job at Hope Academy. Remember, I’m starting night-school classes there next week.”

“I don’t know why you’re bothering. Anyway, where is Brooke?”

“She had some breakfast and went back to bed to do some studying. Her resits are only a week away.”

“Why is she not at school?”

“Both the girls are on half-term,” said Martha, surprised. “You’ve been too wrapped up in yourself to notice even when they’re on holiday.”

Foster, Daisy and a rather forlorn-looking Luther shuffled in to Maplewood Surgery and approached the reception desk. Tricia was busy filing so Jade greeted them.

“It’s Mr and Mrs Woods, isn’t it?” Jade hazarded – she was trying to get used to knowing patients by name.

“That’s right,” said Daisy. “It’s about Luther, to see Dr Fry.”

“You’re booked in for a nine o’clock appointment.”

Daisy leaned forward to speak. “Hello Tricia.”

“Hello – I didn’t see you there. Not opening the shop this morning?”

“This comes first,” said Daisy.

Under his breath, Foster added, “It’s not as if we’re turning away that many customers.”

Sammy spotted the two guests he had seen with Robert Farrah at The Stormy Petrel, as they walked down a corridor of Merlin Court. “Could I have a word with you two gentlemen?”

“What is it?” said Mark.

“It might be delicate,” said Sammy in a hushed tone. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying the other night.”

“Saying about what?”

“You mentioned – forgive me for taking an interest – something about the attractiveness of young ladies of college age?”

“You were eavesdropping?” said Andy, infuriated.

“Just thought you’d like to know – if you wanted, I might have some pictures that you might appreciate. Here’s a sample.” Sammy produced a postcard-sized photo from his pocket.

“Go away, you horrid little man!” said Andy.

“Hang on a minute,” said Mark. “If we got some of these, we could play a great prank on Bob.”

“What sort of prank?”

Celine fidgeted at the top of the stairs. “Come on, Brooke – I want to pee! What are doing in there all this time?”

Brooke snatched open the bathroom door. “Shut, up you little drip! What do you think I’m doing in here?”

“I dunno – tarting yourself up for a date with your boyfriend?”

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll put seats in it. Buzz off.” Brooke stormed out on to the landing and went to her bedroom.

Celine at last got the bathroom to herself. As she was finishing up, she noticed some packaging that Brooke had evidently left by the sink.

“Mum?” said Celine, finding Martha in the kitchen, “has Brooke got something wrong with her teeth?”

“No, I don’t think so, dear. Why?”

“She’s always crabby with me these days,” Celine sighed. “I wondered if she had toothache.”

“I’ll ask her, just to check,” said Martha.

“Ask about her new toothbrush too. She had it in her hand,” said Celine. “Here’s the wrapping.” She held up some card and plastic. “Is Clearblue a special make of brush?”

END OF EPISODE 23.

Magnolia Close. Episode 22. Trial and Tribulation.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.”

The Ames family gathered around to sing good wishes to its youngest member, Celine.

“Here you go, kiddo,” said Brooke to her sister. “Got you a little present.”

Celine unwrapped the package. “What is it?”

“It’s a pencil case. Full of pens and stuff. Mum and Dad got me the same thing when I started at secondary school.”

“Thanks.”

“And we’ve got you this.” Martha nudged Dennis forward to hand over their gift.

“A mobile phone!” Celine shrieked with delight. “Cool! I am so going to need this at Hope.”

“Now then – we’ve got your number so we can always find out where you are,” said Dennis, “and ‘Mum and Dad’ are already programmed in on speed-dial so you can always get us.”

“Wait till my mates see this,” said Celine. She started pressing buttons and within seconds had the little device playing tunes.

Martha spoke in a hushed voice to Dennis. “Let’s just hope we can afford it.”

Brooke’s present lay forgotten on the sofa. Celine was already trying to call a friend. “You’d better let me have your number,” Brooke said.

Dennis, his voice also lowered, said to Martha: “We’ll know better after my court case this afternoon.”

“Now what are you spying on?” said Walter to Gladys.

“Just the Ames girls, both going off to school together. It doesn’t seem five minutes since they were born.”

“The older one looks a bit sulky.”

“You know what kids are like at that age. Remember how ours were.”

“Oh I remember alright,” said Walter, looking at Gladys carefully. “You know, if we are going to have a big do for our anniversary, we ought to start inviting them. The whole family, don’t you think?”

Gladys turned to Walter. Her expression was vaguely troubled. “Walter?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d asked them already.”

He hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do.”

“I want them all here, of course. You’d better get on with it. I don’t want them missing our diamond jubilee.”

Walter looked at his wife for a second, then gave her a warm hug.

Robert Farrah had barely got into the staff-room at Hope Academy, desperately in search of a coffee, before his colleague, Natalie, grabbed his arm. “Good timing –  you’ve got a phone call.”

He took the phone, half-wondering whether it would be a nagging parent, a local journalist about the court case against Dennis Ames that afternoon, or just his fiancée, Nasreen, checking something with him. It wasn’t any of them.

“Robert Farrah.”

“Bob? It’s Mark. How you doing, mate?”

“Mark? Gosh – I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Heard about you planning to get hitched. Wondered if I could talk you out of it over a drink. Or several. Andy’s with me as well, so we thought we might hook up. Are you free tonight?”

“Andy too? Blimey! I’m not missing that. Where and when?”

“Where’s easiest for you?”

“There’s a pleasant local we could go to. The Stormy Petrel.”

“What about the old ball-and-chain?”

“She doesn’t drink, Mark. She’s a Muslim. And we’re not married yet.”

“Will she let you out for the evening?”

“No problem. I think she’ll be glad to get rid of me for a while.”

“Wow – romance isn’t dead. Eight o’clock suit you?”

“Just wish me luck in court this afternoon.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

“How did your modelling with Dad go?” Maxwell had bumped into Brooke in the school corridor and it was the first time he’d seen her in a few days.

“Shh! It’s secret,” said Brooke. “If you play your cards right, I might let you see.”

“I’d like that. We haven’t got together since… you know, results day.”

“At least that bit of the day was nice.”

“Yeah. No problem. Wish things had worked out better for you.”

Brooke smiled. “Thanks. It’s nice to have somebody show me some interest.”

“Like I said, no problem.”

The magistrates court was a drab building of Sixties brutalist architecture. Inside, the court itself was blandly austere. Dennis Ames stood in the dock, with his wife, Martha, looking on apprehensively, and Brooke. She had insisted on being allowed off school to give moral support, as she claimed, but partly she was just curious what might be said about Robert Farrah. He was also there along with his fiancée, Nasreen Siddiqi. Buster Keaton had popped in as well to see what his neighbours had been up to.

 “You have pleaded guilty to the one charge of assault,” said the head magistrate. “Have you anything to say before we pass sentence?”

“If that’s allowed, sir. I regret my actions and I assure you it is not my usual character. However, the reason for my behaviour towards Mr Farrah is because I had heard a rumour about what he got up to with girls at his previous school. Interfering with them. I have two daughters at Hope Academy. One is only twelve and has just started there.”

“Is there any substance to these allegations, these rumours?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said Dennis turning to stare at Robert Farrah.

The magistrates conferred in whispers, occasionally glancing at Dennis and, at one point, at Robert. For his part, Robert fidgeted uncomfortably. Brooke was also staring at him, while Martha watched Brooke. Could there be any truth in all this?

“The courts take a dim view of anyone taking the law into their own hands,” the head magistrate was speaking. “Especially when this results in violence. Such allegations are a matter for the police.” He turned again to his colleagues.

“See what trouble you’ve got your father into,” Martha whispered to Brooke.

“Why does nobody believe what I say?” Brooke hissed, infuriated.

“It’s up to the police. Your father might lose his job because of this. Then what are we going to do?”

“Silence in the court!” the magistrate snapped.

“Here it comes,” Martha mouthed.

“The sentence is as follows.”

END OF EPISODE 22.

Magnolia Close. Episode 21. Showing The Money

Robert Farrah had a free period in his timetable and, instead of the bustle of the staff-room, he found an empty classroom to do some marking. He had just sat down when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
Brooke Ames entered. “Can I see you for a moment, sir?”
“What about?”
“I’ve got this homework about MacBeth and, but I just don’t get it.”
“Listen, Brooke, I’m not your English teacher. Why don’t you go and see her?”
“You promised that I would pass my re-sits.”
“I’ll help where I can, yes.”
“So start helping. Otherwise, you might find being a teacher isn’t as much… fun as before. And if my kid sister starts hearing rumours about you again…”

“So what happens now, Dr Fry?” said Walter.
“We run some blood tests on Gladys just to check the obvious, Mr Ashton. You promise me you don’t have a sherry in the afternoon, do you, Gladys?”
Gladys glared at Dr Fry but didn’t answer.
“What else?”
“I can send her for some screening tests. They’re like intelligence tests, and need expert interpretation.”
“What will they do?”
“They will show that Gladys is still as sharp as a button, hopefully.”
“What if she’s not? The other day, she kept on insisting I wasn’t her husband.”
“Do you mind,” said Gladys, icily, “not speaking about me as if I’m not in the room? Of course you’re my husband, you old crank. You’re just no George Clooney, that’s all. Not sharp indeed!”

Sammy slid his way on to a bar stool in The Stormy Petrel and started hunting for change for a drink.
“Another afternoon off?” said Douglas.
“Finished early,” said Sammy.
“At least you’ve got a proper job. Anyway, allow me. I owe you one.”
“What for?”
“For your suggestion to Maddy the other day. If she can get a few quid modelling for Benson Fairhurst, we’d all benefit.”
“Would we? Did she?”
“Only some practice poses. But she asked him about doing something a bit, more, you know, racy. Do you know anyone else who might do a bit of modelling. Some cute receptionist at Merlin Court? For a finder’s fee. Cash is always handy.”
“I don’t know about that. But we get all sorts of business visitors – there was a chap the other week – somebody who might want to buy ‘em.”
“There you go.”

“Hey, Max!”
“Hey, Brooke. How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know. Hey, is it true your Dad’s looking for models?”
“Good grief! How did you hear about that?”
“Sammy was blathering about it down the shop. Must have been one of his more sober moments.”
“It was only Maddy Weston. She was just helping Dad out get some practice. He’s a bit of a dinosaur with technical stuff. What’s it to you?”
“I thought there might be a few quid in it. I’m going to need all the cash I can get when I go to Uni.”
“If you get into Uni.”
“Shut your gob! Anyway – do you think he would be interested?”
“I can ask, I suppose.”
“Do.”

“Good night out?” said Jade.
“OK, thanks. We went to a movie then had a meal,” said Tricia.
“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.”
“No, no – it was fine.”
“But he’s not exactly swept you off your feet.”
“Give him time.”
“But keep looking, eh?”
“Are you still looking?”
“Course! I think I know more what I’m looking for.”
“Lucky old you.”

Martha was laying out the tea things as Brooke got home.
“You’re late – where’ve you been?”
“Just getting some help with homework.”
“She’s been seeing that creep Farrah,” Celine piped up. “Creepy, creepy Farrah,” she started to sing.
“I’ll batter you if you don’t belt up.”
“Is this true?” said Martha. “He’s not your subject teacher, is he?”
“He ain’t. But sometimes you need a bit extra for the modules as the proper teachers get, what d’you call it? – tunnel vision about you when they’ve seen you all year. Don’t give you a fair chance.”
“Well, don’t let your Dad hear about it. He’s got enough on his mind as it is.”
“What have I got on your mind?” said Dennis, entering the lounge.
“Your court case next week, for a start,” said Martha. “I do hope they’ll be understanding and realise it’s not like you – you just lost your temper.”
“I know. And I might lose my job, too. I’ve been thinking about that. If the worst happens, how do you feel about me trying to set up my own business? You know, house-hold repairs, that sort of thing?”
“Gosh!” Martha was surprised. “Do you really think it might be that bad? I mean, being your own boss might be good some day, but with things the way they are now?”
“It might be either that or look for another job, which could be just as hard. This might be just the right time. Hey,” he turned to Brooke, “where are you off to?”
“I’ve just realised how late it is. I’ve got to see someone.”
“What about your tea? And who’re you seeing?”
“I’ll get it later. It’s more help with homework. I’m determined to pass with flying colours.” Before her parents could argue, Brooke was out of the door.
“Bet she’s off to see creep Farrah again,” Celine muttered.

“Did Max tell you what I want?” said Brooke, as Benson Fairhust shut the door of number 22.
“Not exactly. Something about money.”
“People will pay a lot of money for the right sort of pictures, won’t they?”
“What sort of pictures are you talking?”
“What do you think? And I promise you, I’ll be a good model. Money for you too. You just tell me what you want.”
“Right now I want you to go home before Ashleigh gets in.”
As Benson led Brooke to the door, he said, “But if you can come here tomorrow around half-three, we could give it a try.”
“Remember,” said Brooke, “it’s all for money.”
“I’ll remember.”

END OF EPISODE 21. 

Magnolia Close. Episode 20. This Year’s Model.

Sammy shuffled up to the bar of The Stormy Petrel and ordered another scotch off Maddy.

"Are you sure?" she said. "You look like you’ve had enough already."

"It’s just a night-cap," he sighed, none too clearly.

"I don’t know how you can afford it. Working at Merlin Court must pay better than here."

"I don’t have any family to keep, do I?" He stared off into the distance. "Not any more."

"All the same," she interrupted him before he got started on his life story, "I wish I had money to spare."

"A pretty girl like you? With a face like that you should always be able to find work."

Douglas, who had been sitting a little distance away watching his partner deal with customers, now spoke up. "Hey, Sammy. Maybe it’s time you did go home. Stop bothering the staff."

Sammy turned, unsure who had spoken, until he saw Douglas’s face. "I’m sorry, Doug. I didn’t mean to make a nuisance of myself." He slung back the scotch in a single gulp. "I’ll be going then," he said and set off.

When he had gone, Douglas said to Maddy. "He might have a point though, don’t you think?"

"In what way?"

"You’re a good looking woman. You’re wasted here."

"What I’m wasted by is having someone like you as a partner."

Foster put down the information sheet from the surgery that he had been reading and turned to his wife, Daisy. "So what happens now?"

"You’ve read the leaflet. Luther has to go for more tests. Then, if it’s confirmed…"

"If it’s confirmed, it says here, they can treat him."

"But our child – on drugs for the rest of his life!" She was close to tears."

"It’s not the same as a drug." Foster was trying as rapidly as he could to catch up with the situation. "It’s just something his body should produce normally but it’s stopped working properly." He could see she wasn’t convinced. "It says something like fifty million people around the world are on insulin for diabetes."

"Fifty million?"

"Something like that – I can’t remember exactly. But as long as he gets his daily dose he will be absolutely fine. When does he go back for more tests?"

"Now I want you on your best behaviour when Jonathan turns up," said Tricia to Jade. "You start telling him fibs and – and you’re out of here!"

"But it was all a mistake. You wouldn’t throw your house-mate just for a misunderstanding?"

"Do you have any idea how long I have been looking for a boyfriend? Finally I meet someone nice and you have to go and tell him I’m not interested!"

"I’m sure it was a mistake," said Jade. "You wouldn’t make your best friend homeless just for a date?"

"I’d make my best friend homeless just for a snog!" Tricia exclaimed, so dramatically, she then couldn’t help starting to laugh at herself. Jade started laughing also. "Me too," she said with a grin.

"Anyway," Tricia was still laughing, "who says you’re my best friend?"

Slightly more serious, Jade said, "I promise unless you find somebody else. Unless somebody better comes along. Even then, you and I will be best friends."

Maddy arrived at Number 22, Magnolia Close, with daughter Bethany in her arms. Benson Fairhurst opened the door.

"Here’s our little model-to-be," Maddy cooed over Bethany. "I hope you can make her as pretty in a picture as she already is."

"I’m sure I can do something," said Benson. "Come in."

Benson led Maddy into the living room which had its curtain drawn, but was amply lit by two umbrella floodlights. He had improvised a backcloth of vague pastel-colours with a small chair in front. "I hope she won’t get camera-shy. Some children hate having their picture taken and cry all the way through."

"I’m sure she won’t do that. You’ll get a smile out of her." Maddy picked up a small teddy-bear that Benson had obviously got ready as a prop.

Next door, at Number 21, the door-bell rang and Tricia answered.

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed and dared give him a peck on the cheek. "It’s lovely to see you again. Come in."

She led Jonathan into the lounge. "This is my house-mate, Jade. I gather you and her have already had a bit of a chat on the phone."

Jonathan looked rather awkward. "I’m sorry about what happened. I must have misheard you or something. These mobile phones, eh?" He attempted a grin.

"Can you just hang on a moment while I finish getting ready?" said Tricia. "Don’t go trying to steal him now, will you, Jade."

"That could have gone better," said Benson with a sigh. "I’d forgotten how children can be. Camera’s cleverer than me too. At least with digital, you don’t have to spend any money on film."

"I’m sorry Bethany’s played up. I think she needs a nap."

"As I say, don’t worry."

"I wish she had been a better model." Maddy paused while Benson shut down the lights. "I was just wondering…"

"Yes?"

"Could I model for you? I could pay you off instead."

"What sort of modelling?"

"Whatever’s best. Do you think I’m attractive?"

"Of course you are, dear. Do you mean some kind of glamour modelling?"

"Oh! That sounds a bit daring."

"No, no – anything you wish. A model is a model."

Maddy hesitated some more. "If it’s digital, no-one else will see them, will they?"

"I remember you now," said Jonathan. "You were with Tricia the night we met."

"That’s right," said Jade. "She got to you first."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you were quite nice. I think that was why I was surprised when you phoned and asked for Tricia."

"Why?"

"She’s a bit of an ‘older model,’ don’t you think?" Jade got up from the sofa and pushed a piece of paper into Jonathan’s hand. "If you fancy something with a few less miles on the clock, here’s my mobile number."

End Of Episode 20

Magnolia Close, Episode 19. Down At The Surgery.

Walter Ashton entered Greenfields Surgery to find an unfamiliar face behind the reception counter – or at least a face he had not been introduced to close-up.

"Good morning, my dear, you’re new around here, aren’t you?"

"That’s right," said Jade.

"Aren’t you Tricia’s new house-mate? Isn’t she in this week?"

"She is later – I’m on the early session today and she was still in the land of nod when I left this morning. Is it something I can deal with?"

"No, you’ll do, I suppose. I want Dr Fry to give my wife, Gladys, a check-up."

"Do you need an urgent appointment?"

"No, no – just a check-up. And one myself while I’m here. Would that be alright?"

"I’m sure it would but I’ll have a word with Dr Fry just in case."

At that moment, the sign that indicated the next patient was due buzzed and Daisy Woods got up from the waiting area and led a rather sullen Luther in to see the doctor.

****

Benson Fairhust did not make a habit of drinking at lunchtime but he was in a buoyant mood. He was, frankly, overwhelmed by Ashleigh’s generosity in getting him a new camera and he was dying to try in out, Meanwhile, he just felt like celebrating.

"Pint of bitter when you’re ready, Maddy." Maddy Weston served Benson his pint, and saw he was fiddling with the new gadget.

"So you got a camera, after all?" she said.

Benson stiffened – he hadn’t meant to show the prized object off, especially to the partner of Douglas Gormley, who had had his own method for supplying merchandise that had very nearly got Benson in trouble with the police in the form of Detective Constable Liam "Buster" Keaton.

"Yes, I er…" Benson hesitated. "I decided business demanded I keep up with the times.

"Look," said Maddy, "I’m sorry what Douglas did – the mess he nearly got you in. But he was caught out too. He was just trying to make the best of what seemed like a bit of luck. We’re both short of money – Bethany costs a fortune and she’s only two. Goodness knows what it will be like when she gets older."

"Your Douglas ought to think of getting a proper job. I don’t suppose, if you’re short of cash, you’d be interested in having some portraits of your little girl?"

"Gosh, I’d love to," said Maddy, sincerely. "I just don’t think family budget would run to it. You out looking for business, I take it?"

Benson noticed the heartfelt tone in her voice, and softened. "I know Douglas didn’t mean anything by it. He was just trying to do me a favour. Tell you what – I haven’t got any customers at the moment – how about I come and take some pictures of Bethany anyway – for practice’s sake. She could be my model and I could learn how this new-fangled thing works. And it would show there’s no hard feelings."

"Really? You’d do that? That would be lovely."

"Just don’t let my Ashleigh find out! She still isn’t keen on Douglas and she’d have my guts for garters if she knew."

"It will be our little secret. Oh, I would so love some pictures of Bethany. She’s so cute. Thanks so much."

"Our little secret," Benson said.

****

At Greenfields, Jade was just getting ready to go off duty when Tricia arrived.

"I was beginning to think you weren’t coming in today," Jade said. "You were out ever so late last night."

"That’s because I had a date," Tricia said with asperity. "No thanks to you."

"To me? I don’t know what you mean."

"So you didn’t tell Jonathan that I’d left a message saying I didn’t want to see him?"

"Who’s Jonathan?"

"Don’t give me that – you don’t even sound like you’re telling the truth."

"Oh – er – is Jonathan that guy you met the other week when we went out? What’s… what’s he like?"

"As if you are ever going to find out. What were you thinking?"

"I’m sorry, Trish, but I think somebody’s got their wires crossed here. There was some stranger phoned you up but he clearly didn’t know you that well and I didn’t want to give out private information. I just said I didn’t think you were interested in seeing someone. You don’t know what creeps and weirdos – "

"I specifically told you that if someone called Jonathan rang, I wanted to meet up with him again."

"Is that what he told you? That I said you weren’t available?"

"Precisely," Tricia almost hissed the word.

"He must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick, this Jonathan chap. Look – who are you going to trust? – a comparative stranger or the person you share a house with. I’m your friend. I’d never do anything to upset you."

Tricia took a breath and paused. "This isn’t the right place to discuss it. But I want a word with you when I get home."

"Trish, I – " But Tricia was already dealing with someone at the reception desk. "Damn," said Jade to herself. "Let’s see how long this Jonathan lasts when I’ve dealt with him."

****

Daisy called in at her husband’s shop, Paws For Thought.

"What are you doing here at this time of day?" said Foster.

"I just thought you’d like to know what’s wrong with our son, seeing as you haven’t been taking much of an interest."

"Do my a favour, lady, I’m as concerned as you – I just didn’t notice the way a mother does. So what is the news?"

Suddenly Daisy began to cry.

"Daisy – what is it? What’s wrong with Luther?"

Daisy couldn’t stop sobbing. She handed Foster a leaflet she had got from the surgery. "This is what the doctor thinks it might be."

Foster looked at the leaflet. "But this is not possible."

"The doctor’s going to do further tests. But he’s pretty sure already. This is what’s wrong with our son. And it will affect him for life!"

End Of Episode 19.

Magnolia Close Episode 18. Crossed Wires.

"So you are going to school today, after all?" said Martha.

"Of course," said Brooke, "why not?"

"You weren’t so keen a few days ago."

"I want to get my A levels. I’ve got resits in two months."

"I’m glad you’re sounding more confident."

"Yeah. I think I’m going to do well this time round," said Brooke.

"It’s good you approve of Hope Academy now. I’ve been thinking I might enrol there on a night-school class."

"Doing what?"

"They run a course in business administration. Advanced secretarial, word-processing and so on. I thought it might be a good idea if I’m to get back the world of work. Help out with the pennies. We could always do with a bit extra."

"That’s true enough. We don’t know what trouble Dad will be in yet after his caveman behaviour."

"Let’s not dwell on that," said Martha.

Celine, looking on, was horrified. "You’re thinking of going to that dump of a school too?"

"Why not?" said Martha. "You’re never too old to learn."

"I think it will do Mum good to see what we have to go through," said Brooke to Celine.

Celine collapsed on the sofa with a long face. "I think everybody in this family has gone nuts."

"Keep you eyes closed," said Ashleigh. "OK, here’s your surprise – you can open them now."

Benson did he was told and gasped in amazement at what he saw. "A digital SLR!" He picked up the camera and handled it almost as if it were a religious treasure. He spoke in quiet awe. "Where on Earth did you get the money to buy this?"

"I got it from the magazine. Women Talk give discounts to their staff sometimes on second-hand bits and pieces. I played up being a graphic artist and said how it would help me in my work and they offered it to me. Plus I’ve got a bonus this month for finishing my probation there."

"You’re permanent staff now?" Benson was delighted.

"You betcha!" Ashleigh beamed.

"Wow – things are certainly looking up for this family."

"Well… I saw how disappointed you were when you had to hand back that other camera. Promise me you’ll never have anything to do with that Douglas again. He’s as bent as a dog’s hind leg."

"I promise. No problem."

Walter carried two cups of tea into the lounge. He handed one to Gladys and sat down beside her, taking a sip.

"You do realise – this wedding anniversary coming up will be our Jubilee wedding."

"What?" said Gladys.

"I know – it’s hard to believe – fifties years of ‘bledded wiss,’" he joked. "Doesn’t seem a day over forty-five."

"What our you talking about?" Gladys looked vaguely shocked.

"Our wedding anniversary. I suppose we’d better make it a big do. Invite all the family. We don’t know when we might get the chance again to be all together for a celebration."

"Fifty years? It’s not that long. I’ll have to check with my husband."

Walter was startled. He put down his tea. "Gladys – what’s the matter? I am your husband."

"Oh no," said Gladys, gravely. "My husband is a much younger man."

As Daisy Woods entered Greenfields Surgery she was pleased to see the familiar face of Tricia McAndrew behind the desk. However she was somewhat surprised by her expression – she seemed to be just staring into space.

"Hello, Tricia. Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t see you there."

"I gathered that. You know, the French have a phrase for that – ‘Your mind was on the moon.’ Is anything the matter?"

"No… no," Tricia hesitated. "I think I’m just finding it’s taking me longer than I expected getting used to a house-share."

"Is it going alright? I thought Jade worked with you here."

"It’s her day off today. We cover some different shifts. Perhaps it’s just as well – I think I still need a little time on my own."

"So you wouldn’t be interested in meeting up at The Petrel tonight for a drink?"

Tricia managed a grin. "Now I didn’t say that. The only thing that would stop me is if I had a date with a fellah."

"You likely to get a date?"

"I was thinking I just might. But it seems to be turning out to be only wishful thinking," she sighed. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"I need to make an appointment with Dr Fry. I’m still worried about Luther. He’s still losing weight. Even his pants keep slipping down like they’re a size too big. I want him to have a check-up."

"OK – when would suit you?"

Jade was relaxing at home in Number 23 when the telephone rang.

"Hello?"

A male voice answered. "Hi. Is Tricia there?"

"Who’s speaking, please?"

"My name’s Jonathan. We met the other night. You’d be the friend she was with, I guess."

"Ah Jonathan. Tricia said you might call. She left a message – she said she was not interested in seeing you again. I’m sorry."

"Oh. That’s a bit cold. Are you sure?"

"Definite. Those were her exact words."

"Goodnight, everybody," said Tricia as she was leaving the surgery.

"You not doing anything tonight?" said Helen, the on-duty receptionist.

"No – chance would be a fine thing. Just meeting a friend, that’s all."

As Tricia stepped outside, her mobile rang. She didn’t recognise the number.

"Hello, who’s that?"

"I’m Jonathan," came the voice. "We met the other night and you gave me both your numbers. Is that your house-mate on your land-land?"

"I suppose so."

"I’m just checking – did you tell her to say you didn’t want to see me again?"

"No! Definitely not. I've been hoping you would call."

"So you wouldn’t mind going out for a drink – say this Friday?"

"That would be lovely. When and where?"

"That’s a relief," said Jonathan. "Your house-mate must have got her wires crossed."

"She must," said Tricia. After the call, arrangements made, Tricia said to herself, "I think it’s about time I uncrossed them."

End Of Episode 18.

Magnolia Close Episode 17. Negotiations

As the postman approached number 24, Magnolia Close, that morning, he could hear raised voices. All female, an adult and, he presumed, two children. He didn’t need to get that near to hear them either. He certainly knew better than to hang around. He dropped two items of mail and beat a prudent, hasty retreat.

"I am not going to that school again!" Brooke was shouting at her mother, Martha.

"Me neither," Celine added.

"How are you going to pass your re-sits if you don’t go to school? And now look what you’ve done? You’ve upset Celine!"

"I’ve upset Celine? What about me? Doesn’t it matter if I’m upset? Never mind that little twit."

"Brooke!" Martha was really mad now, and she meant it. "You are not to call your sister things like that. I’ve warned you once. I will not put up with it and you are going to be in serious trouble."

The doorbell rang. Martha could not say what serious trouble Brooke would be in. Embarrassed, she gave a side-long nod to her two daughters. "The pair of you – get in the kitchen." Martha straightened herself and attempted to hide the anger from her face before opening the door.

"Mrs Ames? I’m Robert Farrah. I was wondering whether I could have a word with you."

Jade shuffled into the kitchen still in her dressing gown to find Tricia already there sipping a cup of coffee.

"Gosh – you’re up with the lark."

"I know. I woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep."

"But it’s Saturday – our day off. No sick people bothering us at the health centre. It was a good night, wasn’t it?"

"Not bad, I suppose. I got some guy asking me for my phone number."

"Never! Really? Lucky old you. What was he like?"

"OK, I suppose."

"Think he’ll call?"

"Do they ever?" Tricia sipped at her coffee. "Well sometimes they do. Sometimes, when you see them a second time you wish they hadn’t bothered!"

They both laughed. "Tell me about it," said Jade.

"Did you get any chat-up lines?"

"No. I struck out. It must have been your lucky night."

Tricia paused. "Listen, Jade." She hesitated. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but we might both have done better if we’d split up a little – given the guys more of a chance."

"Was I crowding you? Oh, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to."

"No, not at all. But perhaps if we had some secret signal we could give each other – you know – if one of us is getting a bite – then the other would realise to, sort of, leave some space."

"Of course," said Jade. "Whatever you like."

"And the same would go for me if you had someone showing interest – then I would know to back off."

"Gotcha. Absolutely."

"And if some guy called Jonathan phones, hand him over to me!" Tricia forced a laugh.

"Yeah. Right."

"I am sorry about what happened to your husband," said Robert Farrah. "There’s nothing I could do."

"Couldn’t you just drop the charges?" said Martha Ames.

"I wish. The headmistress, Mrs Groves, is insisting on a prosecution, I’m afraid. It’s all part of a policy of zero tolerance of violence towards teachers. A sign of our times, I’m afraid."

"I understand," said Martha. "The thing I’m really worried about is if this gets back to his employers. He could lose his job."

"Has he ever been in trouble with the law before."

"No," she was shocked. "I don’t know what has come over him."

"You’ve no idea?"

"None. Celine’s been difficult, but what do you expect with a new school? Dennis had a word with Brooke to keep an eye on her because she’s back at Hope Academy doing re-sits. I don’t know whether it was something she said that made Dennis so angry but whatever it was, it’s no excuse."

"Hmm." Robert reflected. "I was wondering – would it be possible for me to have a word with Brooke? In private?"

"In private?" Martha hesitated. "I’m not sure that would be a good idea."

"I quite understand. It’s just that, sometimes, school children have things that they won’t open up about in front of their parents. You know the sort of thing – not handing homework, struggling with some topic."

"Where were you thinking?" Martha still wasn’t sure.

"If we could just go for a walk – out in public. I wouldn’t want to whisk her away where no-one could see us, if that’s what you’re thinking."

"Very well," she said. "I’ll go and ask her. She may say no."

"Of course."

Robert Farrah and Brooke Ames had walked in a tense silence to the gardens at the end of Magnolia Close.

"Brooke, what’s wrong?"

She didn’t answer.

"Have we ever met before? Have I ever done anything to you in a past life that I’ve forgotten about that makes you want to spread stories about me?"

"No."

"Then what is it? Whatever you told your father has landed him in trouble with the police, and your mother says that it may even affect his job. If you are going to go to university you are going to need all the financial help they can give. Why are you telling tales about me?

"They’re not tales! My best friend told me about what you got up to at your last school before you came here!"

"And you believed her, just like that?"

"Why not?"

"Because they are just tales. Something somebody made up. If you check you will find I left that school without a blot on my character. Coming to Hope Academy was for a better job, that’s all. Now I’d like you to stop spreading rumours before they cause any more harm. Can you do that?"

"Perhaps," she sulked. "What’s in it for me?"

"I see, It’s like that, is it?"

"Why not?"

"You’ve got re-sits coming up, haven’t you. Maybe I could help."

"Get me through?"

"Yes. Sort something. Deal?"

She hesitated. "Deal."

End Of Episode 17.

Magnolia Close Episode 16. Motives And Secrets

Dennis Ames marched up to the reception desk of Hope Academy with a look on his face that no-one should cross him. The receptionist, Mrs Cooke, looked up.

"Can I help you, Mr… er…?

"Ames. I’m Dennis Ames. I’ve come to see the headmistress."

"Do you have an appointment to see Mrs Groves, Mr Ames?"

"I’ve not taken time off work just to mess about making appointments."

"I’m sorry, but Mrs Groves is very busy – "

"Either she can see me now or I’m going to the police!"

"What’s it in connection with?" Mrs Cooke tried to remain calm.

"It’s in connection with," Dennis Ames said, mocking her, "the fact that you’ve got a pervert working here as a teacher!"

Foster looked up as the shop door to Paws For Thought opened and his wife, Daisy, came in. "Oh," he said, "I was half-hoping you were another customer."

"So we’ve had some then?"

"Yes, sort of. In body, if not in spirit."

"How do you mean?" Daisy said, donning an overall coat as she slipped behind the counter.

"I dunno," Foster hesitated. "That old dear, Mrs Ashton, was in here to buy some millet for her bird."

"I didn’t know she still had a bird. I thought her budgie died some time back."

"So did I. But she insisted she still had him."

Daisy started unbuttoning her husband’s overall to hurry him home. The sooner he got back from lunch, the sooner she could leave. "Odd," she said.

"That’s what I thought. Then there was that woman from the health centre –what’s-her-name?"

"Tricia, you mean?"

"That’s her. She came in looking half lost to collect her regular order."

"The cat-food? What was wrong with her?"

"Nothing. Only looked like her mind was on another planet."

"Don’t be like that! I like Tricia. I went to see her about Luther the other day. She’s very nice."

"What’s wrong with Luther?" Foster bent to pick up his coat. Even autumn in England still felt cold to him.

"You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said about him lately, have you?"

"Well, what then?"

"The fact the he’s always eating yet he’s as thin as a rake."

"He’s a growing boy. You worry too easy."

"And here’s you, worrying about your customers. Tricia’s probably got a lot on her mind."

"Such as what?"

"Having a new house-mate for a start. It must take a bit of getting used to."

"I know who you mean now – that new young woman who’s just moved in."

"Keep your eyes off her," Daisy said, catching a note in his voice. "She’s nearer Luther’s age than yours."

"That wasn’t what I was thinking," Foster countered.

"Well, what then?"

"Just that – if business here doesn’t pick up soon, we might be looking for a lodger."

"And where would we put Luther?"

"In the shed, maybe?"

Tricia had arrived at the surgery early despite her shopping trip. As much as anything she had wanted to get out of the house before Jade was up. There would be no avoiding her at work however. She deliberately busied herself with double-checking the phoned-in requests for repeat prescriptions, even though one of the practice nurses would go through them anyway and prepare them for a GP’s signature. She just needed to be doing something by the time Jade got there.

Sure enough, Jade arrived, bang on time. I can’t fault her for punctuality, Tricia thought.

"Good morning," said Jade.

"What? Yes. A good morning. Fine." Tricia stared even harder at the requests.

"What are you doing?"

"These."

"They’re repeat requests, aren’t they? I thought you said we only noted them down then passed them on?"

Tricia stopped. This was no good. She would have to think of something else. No – that wouldn’t work either. She would have to face this head on. "About the other night, she said at last.

"Yes?"

Tricia stared hard into the middle distance. "I just need you to know that… that I don’t do that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"You know."

"Kiss?" Jade looked genuinely shocked.

"Not with – with other girls!"

Jade’s jaw dropped. "Goodness! I didn’t – I mean I’m not –"

"Now if there was a nice boy around, then that might be a different story."

Jade continued to look horrified with shock. "Well – the same goes for me too. I didn’t mean to make you think I was coming on to you."

"It’s just not right."

"Of course not. I’m boys only too." Jade looked up to the ceiling as if seeking help. "I can’t believe you thought that I was… it was just a goodnight kiss. Perhaps it was a bit too much. But I’d had a lot to drink. It wasn’t meant as anything like that. Honestly."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Now I feel even more stupid. You just seemed to be a bit too affectionate."

"I know I can be a terrible flirt especially when I’ve had a drink or two. But that’s all it was. But don’t feel stupid. I’m the one who’s made a fool of herself."

"Oh no, you’ve not. Let’s just call it quits. What I’d really like is too meet a half decent fellah. I’ve been trying for so long, but always seem to get the useless ones."

"Tell me about it," said Jade. "Tell you what – this week-end let’s go uptown and paint the place red. Go man-hunting."

Tricia sighed with relief. "OK. Let’s."

"Good. Sorted." said Jade. She took a side-long glance at Tricia.

Pity.

"Mr Ames," said Mrs Groves, the headmistress of Hope Academy, "Mr Farrah is on his way to my office right now. I don’t know why your daughter, Celine, has been getting so upset in her lessons, but I am sure we can sort this out."

Dennis Ames nodded without speaking. There was a knock at the door and Robert Farrah came in. "Mrs Groves? How can I help?"

"I’ll show you how," said Dennis, and promptly punched Robert in the face. "Kiddy-fiddler!

End Of Episode 16

Magnolia Close Episode 15. The Awful Truth.

Foster Woods was opening up Paws For Thought, the pet shop that his father, Zachary, had left to him and which Zachary himself had started many years ago, after he had come to England from The Caribbean.

Zachary had emigrated hoping for a better life, with all the economic opportunities the centre of The Commonwealth had to offer. But the streets had not been paved with gold and jobs were erratic. Finally, he decided to become self-employed. All in all, it had been a good move. Success in business was said to depend on location and he had picked a good place selling pet supplies in a reasonably affluent area.

Foster reflected that another piece of good luck was needed now. Customers had become increasingly scarce in the current economy, and takings had been dwindling for some time. He was therefore grateful to see a familiar customer already waiting at the door.

"Good morning, Tricia, how are you today?"

"What?" Tricia seemed startled by the question. "Oh, I’m… I’m fine, thank you."

"Now there’s a face that hides a few thoughts. It’s not Moxie, your cat, causing that frown, is it?"

"No," Tricia shook her head. "No. It’s… it’s nothing really."

"That’s a relief. Your usual order, is it? I’ll take it out to your car."

Just at that moment, a less familiar figure entered the shop.

"Hello, Mrs Ashton. Long time since you been here."

"Is it?" Gladys said, a little surprised. "I just want some millet for my Joey."

"You’ve got a new budgie then?

"Joey? No. We’ve had him for ages. What a thing to say."

Foster shot a glance at Tricia and was about to make a comment, but he could see he was not likely to get much of a response. Sometimes customers could be baffling. Interesting but baffling.

Sammy opened the door to find Buster Keaton on the step. It was unusual for him to have callers on his day off and preferred not to be interrupted in what had become his routine.

"Mr Carter? I want to have a word with you. May I come in?"

"Is it important? I was just about to have a nap? Sorry – that was rude. Of course – come in."

Sammy showed Buster into the lounge. "Excuse the mess," he said, removing discarded take-away food cartons from a chair. However, Buster did not sit.

"Mr Carter," Buster pulled out a sheaf of paper printed off from a computer. "Can you explain these photographs? That is you isn’t it?"

Sammy looked at the first two pages and turned white. "Where did you get these?"

"I think you know where. What I want to know is how they got on Mr Farrah’s camera in the first place."

"Oh God…" said Sammy. He moved away and, picking up a bottle of scotch and a glass from the floor, poured himself a very stiff drink.

"It was really, really stupid of me," said Sammy.

"I don’t doubt that. What did you think you were doing?" said Buster.

"You’ve got to understand. It’s ever since the divorce – you knew my wife and I had split up?"

"I think I heard something."

"I thought it would be a trial separation. Then it got to two years, and she sent me the papers… the papers that…" Sammy took a hard drink from his glass.

"What’s this got to do with dirty pictures of yourself?" Buster asked, softly.

"It’s just nuts." A thought struck Sammy, and a look of horror crossed his face. "The hotel doesn’t need to know about this, does it? I’d lose my job. Without that, I’ve had it."

"That depends," said Buster. "Just tell me what happened."

Sammy took a deep breath. "I was doing the round of the rooms. I think I may have had a couple of drinks. Things haven’t… you know? I saw the camera. I just thought it would be, well, be fun, to take a couple of pictures of myself. I’ve been so lonely… it’s been a long time… even before we split up. I just thought it would be fun. I was only borrowing the camera."

"Go on."

"Well, I must have sobered up a bit and tried to delete the pictures but I didn’t know how. I saw the Farrahs coming back. I panicked and put the camera back. I hoped they wouldn’t notice. Afterwards I realised that was … wishful thinking."

"Somewhat," said Buster.

"When I saw them moving in, I decided to see them and own up. When I called on them, though, I just couldn’t. Then I saw the camera, just lying there. I grabbed it and cleared off. But I still couldn’t figure out how to work the bloody thing."

"What did you do then?"

"I didn’t know what to do. I really didn’t want anyone seeing me… abusing myself. I just wanted to get rid. It wasn’t funny anymore."

"You were never planning to post these, say, on The Internet?"

"Good God, no! I wouldn’t even know how."

"So what did you do?"

"Really stupid. I just chucked the camera in a bin. I thought – they’ll be insured. No loss."

"You didn’t know Douglas had seen you?"

"Of course not. If I’d known that little tow-rag was about… It’s not like I tried to sell it to him or anything. Do you believe me?"

Buster rubbed his chin. "As a matter of fact, I do. I hope I’m not going stupid my old age."

"So you’re not going to tell anyone."

"It’s not a crime to be stupid. I think that’s all you’ve been. The Farrahs are getting their camera back – without the smut-fest. No-one else need know. But I’m warning you – I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you from now on."

Sammy saw Buster to the door. "One last thing," said Buster. "You might consider getting some help. Try speaking to your doctor."

Sammy nodded and promised he would do that. After closing the door, he poured himself another very large scotch.

END OF EPISODE 15

Magnolia Close Episode 14. Exposed.

Celine Ames was letting her mother Martha get her ready for the newcomers’ visiting day at Hope Academy. “Looks like we’re going to be at the same school after all, if you’re doing re-sits!” said Celine to her sister.
“Not if I can help it.”
 “Have you still not got an offer of a place?” said Martha.
“No I haven’t. The last college said they would call me back if they turned up anything.”
“I thought that Track website run by UCAS was going to help get you a place?”
“They said they’d run out of courses like mine.”
“You should have got on it earlier, instead of messing around,” said Celine.
“Oh shut up, you!”
“What does she mean?” said Martha.
“Brooke’s got a boyfriend, Brooke’s got a boyfriend.”
“You will have a boyfriend if you get in that pervert’s class, you little freak!”
“Brooke! Don’t you talk to your sister like that!”

****

“What are you staring at?” Walter asked his wife Gladys. When she didn’t speak, he looked out of the window in the direction she was staring.
“There’s that Sammy Carter, coming home early from work again.” She said at last.
“What’s that got to do with you, you nosy old bag?”
“He’s always coming home early these days. I wonder if he’s not well. He doesn’t look too well. And there’s Martha, taking Brooke off to school.”
Walter looked again. “That’s not Brooke, that’s her younger sister, Celine.”
“Oh, of course. If she’s going to a new school, you’d think Dennis, the father, would be going to check it out.”
“And take a day off work? That’s a mother’s job. He’s more old-fashioned about that kind of thing than we are old.” Walter chuckled to himself. Gladys didn’t seem to hear him.
“There’s that Sammy Carter, coming home early from work again,” she said.

****

“Here’s that written description you wanted,” said Robert Farrah, handing over a slip of paper.

“Thanks,” said Buster. “But if this doesn’t work, I’ll have to make it official. Or drop it.”
“Whatever you think best,” said Robert. “Now I’ve got to and meet some of next year’s new pupils.”
He left Buster at the entrance to Hope Academy and went down to the corridor to the junior assembly hall where children about to join the school and their parents were gathering.
“Hello and welcome to you all from Hope Academy. I can see a lot of faces I’m going to get to know in the coming year,” he said, looking round, “and one or two that are familiar to me already.” He spotted Martha Ames with her daughter and smiled.
Celine screamed and ran out of the room before Martha could stop her.

****

“Mr Fairhurst?” Buster said, “Can I come in and have a word with you?”

“What about? And what’s he doing with you?” Benson indicated Douglas, who was standing, looking somewhat reluctant to be there, at Buster’s side.
“Let us in and I’ll explain.”

Buster was sitting in the lounge of Benson Fairhurst’s house with a digital SLR camera in his lap and a slip of paper, with two unhappy looking men facing him.
“So – to me, this looks like the camera that went missing from number 23, Magnolia Close earlier this summer. Would you care to explain how you came to have it, Mr Fairhurst? You are aware that it is a criminal offence to receive stolen goods?”
“I – I bought it off him – Douglas Gormley. But it was in good faith. He told me he’d bought it from a business that was closing down.”
“That’s we he told me,” said Buster. “It didn’t strike you as odd that it didn’t come in a box? Mr Gormley,” he turned to Douglas, “where did you get this camera? Didn’t you steal it from Robert Farrah, as he was moving in? You were there that afternoon. I saw you myself.”
“No, honestly…” Douglas shook his head. “I found it.”

****

“What was that all about?” said Martha to Celine when she finally caught up with her at home.
Celine, in floods of tears, was hardly able to speak, when Brooke came into the room. Suddenly, Celine pointed at her sister and through sobs yelled, “It’s all your fault, you big sod!”
“Celine!”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, you little creep,” said Brooke.
Celine turned to her mother. “She told me. She told me that new bloke at number 23 is a pervert and he’s going to be teaching at Hope.”
“Is this true?” said Martha.
“And the only reason,” Celine butted in again, “that she’s going to have to go back and do re-sits is because she didn’t get in touch with the University after she got her crap exam results. She didn’t get in on to Clearing because was fooling around with a boy!”
“Shut it, you little dirt-bag!”
“Boy?” What boy?” said Martha.
“Max. Maxie Fairhurst.”

****

“You found it!” said Buster. “I cannot believe any crook is still using that daft excuse.”
“But it’s true, Mr Keaton, I swear. It was in a litter-bin. I even saw the bloke who threw it away.”
At that moment, Maxwell Fairhurst came into the room.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“That damn camera you wanted me to buy – it was stolen!”
“It wasn’t!” Douglas insisted. “I actually saw this bloke throw the camera into a bin. I thought, ‘waste not, want not’ so I took it.”
“What bloke?” said Buster. “Don’t give me that.”
“He could be telling the truth,” said Max. “Wait there a moment.”
“I’m going to jail over a damn camera,” said Benson to no-one in particular.
Max returned with his laptop computer. “Here,” he said to Buster and Douglas. “Look at these pictures. Mr Gormley, is that the bloke you saw throw the camera away?”
Douglas craned forward to look at the laptop’s screen. “Yeah, that’s him. He lives round here, doesn’t he?”
“That’s Sammy Carter!” said Buster. “But what the bloody hell is he doing in those pictures?”

END OF EPISODE 14

Magnolia Close Episode 13. Results.

Brooke Ames found herself unable to get out of the car. Her mother, Martha, had driven her to Hope Academy on the most fateful day Brooke had ever known in her life. The day when she found out whether all the effort she had struggled to make over the last two years were going to pay off. Or prove to be just an over-ambitious waste of time. The day that would change all of her life, forever.

Results day.

Her mother got out of the car, walked round and opened the door on Brooke’s side.

"I can’t get out, Mum. What if I’ve not got my grades?"

"Well the results aren’t going to change just because you stay sitting there."

"But I so want to go to university."

"The other week you were saying you wanted to stay at home."

"That’s not true!" Brooke snapped. "Why would I have worked so hard if I wanted to stay at home?"

Martha realised that she was not being particularly sympathetic. She had hated school and back in her day she was just glad to leave and didn’t care about qualifications. She had been quite content to be a home-maker. But now, she too was thinking of going to night-school to see if she could get a part-time job, something in an office perhaps. "Come on," she said softly, "whatever you’ve got, you’ve got to find out some time."

Just then Brooke noticed across the car park a familiar figure going into the school building. "What’s he doing here?"

"Who?" Martha looked at where Brooke was staring. "Isn’t that that new chap who’s just moved in to number 23? He’s going to be a new teacher here, isn’t he?"

Brooke suddenly snapped upright and quickly got out of the car. "Whatever I’ve got, I’m not coming back here to do re-sits."

****

Inside, the corridor was cool and oppressively familiar, and bustling with activity. The results were being handed out in envelopes by some of the staff at a desk set up in the foyer. Disturbingly, there were cries of jubilation mixed in with faces blank with disappointment and, either way, everyone seemed to be hugging everybody else like they had just survived an air-crash.

Brooke got to the desk and gave her name and was handed an envelope.

"What did you need again?" said Martha.

"Two A’s and a B. Someone said I might just get away with two B’s."

"Well – go on – open it!"

Brooke took a breath. Here she would see in black and white officially what her worth was, in the eyes of the academic system. She looked down at the slip of paper. She could not believe what she saw.

****

"What you doing this afternoon?" Benson asked his son, Maxwell, who was sat at his new laptop computer and reading Facebook.

"Dunno. Nothing much. Why?"

"I thought you might like to come along with me and see put the new camera through its paces."

"You mean you want me to help you figure out how to use it."

"I’m open to advice. It wouldn’t hurt you to show some gratitude for me getting you that – " he indicated the laptop.

"I still don’t know how you afforded both a computer for me and a new camera for yourself."

"Well… they were a bargain. And they were both second-hand. I’m sorry if it’s not the latest model. Not that you seem to be doing that much school-work on it anyway."

Maxwell bridled at this remark. "I was wondering when that was going to come up. And another thing, where did you get that camera from?

"What’s it to you?"

"This is just a cheapy machine but that camera’s top of the range. You always were going on about how you had no money."

Benson sighed, disappointed. "Like I said, they were both a bargain. It wouldn’t hurt you to show a little gratitude, all the same."

Benson snapped the lid of the laptop shut. "Oh for God’s sake…" he said, and walked out.

Kids, Benson thought. What were you supposed to do to please them?

****

Brooke got back into her mother’s car, unable to speak.

"What was it again?" said Martha.

After a pause, Brooke said, "Two Bs and a C."

"That’s nearly good enough, isn’t it?"

"‘Nearly good enough’ isn’t good enough!"

"Don’t you raise your voice to me! What did that nice lady say you should do?"

hone my first choice and see what they say, which will almost certainly be ‘no,’ then phone up Clearing and see if I can scrape in anywhere else."

"That will be something," said Martha. "Not all hope is lost, eh?"

"You don’t understand," said Brooke. "It’s not the same as getting your first choice. I might not even be able to do the course I want."

"But you will still be at university."

Brooke looked at her mother with a mixture of anger and frustration. Why couldn’t she understand? Then she saw Robert Farrah again, this time coming out of the school building. It was all too much. Brooke leapt out of the car and hurried off.

****

It was some time later that Brooke happened to meet Maxwell as he was wandering, seeming equally lost in thought, down the end of the close.

"Hey, Brooke. How’d the results go?"

How many more times she was going to be asked this horrible question. "Max! I’ve failed."

"Don’t be daft. Of course you’ve not failed. You must have got something."

She handed the fateful slip of paper to Max.

"What was your firm offer?"

"Two A’s and a B," she found herself saying yet again.

"There’s still a chance then. And there’s always Clearing."

"Not you and all," she said bitterly. This time, she began to cry.

Max gently put his arms around her. "We’ll sort something out."

"I don’t think so," she sniffed.

"Come on. I’ll take you back to mine. Dad’s out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves."

End of Episode 13

Magnolia Close Episode 12. Looking For Clues.

"Where are the pamphlets for tomorrow’s conference guests?"

"What pamphlets?" said Sammy.

"The conference of wholesale confectioners – they sent us a pack of leaflets that were to be put out in each delegate’s room." This was Donald McClintock, Sammy’s deputy at Merlin Court.

"Oh. Er, Sorry. I knew there was something…"

"Look," said Donald quietly, standing close. "I’ll sort it out. Why don’t you go home and sleep it off?"

"Sleep what off?"

"And take that bottle with you. There’s no point in putting back a half-empty. I’ll put it down as a breakage."

****

"My Dad’s not in," said Maxwell Fairhurst.

"It’s not Benson I’ve come to see," said Buster Keaton. "It’s you I’ve come to see."

"What about?"

"The other night – when you were with Brooke Ames."

"Yeah. So?"

"What were you up to?"

"What’s it got to do with you?"

"What were you doing?"

"Homework."

"Don’t give me that," said Buster. "See this face. You don’t lie to it, right? You’re both on school holiday for the summer."

"Well… we were just spending some time together. You know? It’s not against the law, is it?"

"No, it isn’t, but that doesn’t make it alright. And did Brooke buy some alcohol?"

"She got some cans of beer in."

"Now she’s old enough to drink. But you’re not."

"Not in public. But I can in private, with an adult."

Buster knew he had a point. He didn’t trust him. But that was probably only because he was a teenager. "Just you make sure you don’t get her to buy it for you from the off-licence. I would take what we adults call ‘a dim view.’ Do you get my meaning?"

"Don’t worry, Mr Keaton. I didn’t touch anything. Either Brooke or anything alcoholic."

Buster suddenly noticed something, past Maxwell’s shoulder, hanging from the coat-rack by its strap. "Has your father got a new camera at last?"

"Goodbye, Mr Keaton." Maxwell closed the door.

Buster had had doors closed in his face before. It never reassured him. It only made him want to come back and ask more questions. And, usually, he did.

As for Maxwell, he leaned with his back to the door and let out a long, deep sigh. He knew what had been on that camera, before he deleted it all for his father. But he’d kept copies on his laptop too. Just in case he needed them. He had a feeling he might.

****

"How was work down at The Petrel?" Douglas asked Maddy.

"Oh, the usual. Mostly quiet. That new couple were in again, but I think they’ll soon get bored. And Sammy had to be helped out the door again."

"Why don’t you ask old man Spencer for a night off?"

"Because we need the money."

"Well, it just happens I’ve got a bit of money to spare at the moment."

"You have?! Have you been in my purse?"

Douglas looked hurt. "No! This is my money. Made it, fair and square. I was wondering whether you fancied an evening out. We could go up town."

"Not on the horses. Don’t tell me you got lucky."

"I got lucky. But not on the horses. How about it?"

****

Brooke Ames opened the door of number 25, Magnolia Close to Shannon Cahill, a friend of hers from Hope Academy.

"You nervous about results tomorrow?"

"A bit," said Brooke. "You?"

"A bit," said Shannon. "But I’ll tell you what’s worrying me most."

"What?"

"Having to stay another term to do re-sits at Hope Academy."

"Yeah, it would be a real drag."

"Not just that, – I’ve got a friend, Clare, who goes to Eastfields. She says she knows that new teacher they are just about to get. A bloke called Farrah."

"Robert Farrah?"

"Oh, you’ve heard of him then?"

"Yeah. You could say that. What about it?"

"Turns out he was a teacher at Eastfields. But he had to leave ‘cos it turns out he’s a bit of a pervert. Specially with schoolgirls."

"What?!"

"No lie. He was a new teacher there just a year ago but he got up to something and they had to give him the heave-ho."

"What did he get up to?"

"You’d have to meet Clare and ask her for the gory details. We’d better just hope were leaving this summer and we get the grades we need. Where you hoping to go?"

"Aston in Birmingham. I want to do media studies."

"Well… here’s hoping. Hey, isn’t your kid sister Celine supposed to be starting at Hope in the autumn?"

****

Robert Farrah knocked on the door of number 29 and was greeted by Lucille Keaton.

"Mrs Keaton?"

"That’s right."

"I was wondering – is your husband at home? I could do with having a word with him."

"Business or pleasure?"

"I’m afraid it’s probably more business than pleasure. Though it is nice to meet you."

"That’s alright," Lucille said coolly. "Please come him. Buster’s through there."

Buster was watching some cop drama on the TV.

"Sorry, I’m interrupting your relaxing."

"That’s alright. Real police work is nothing like most tele shows it. What can I do for you?"

"I don’t want to make it official. But, you know that day we moved in and you came to introduce yourself? You said we should keep an eye on whatisname? – Douglas?"

"What about him?"

"Well, we had a camera when Nas and started unpacking – a digital SLR – but afterwards – after he’d been – we couldn’t find it. We haven’t seen it since."

"Really, if you think someone’s taken it, you should report it."

"I know, but if you could have a discrete word…"

"Hm. If I had a pound for all of them, I wouldn’t need to work as a detective." Buster paused. "Alright. I’ll see what I can do. "

After Robert Farrah had gone, Lucille came up to her husband and put his hand on her shoulder. "That’s him. That’s the one we were talking about at social services. He’s a bad ’un, by all accounts."

End of Episode 12

'The Deadline', for Grazia and the Orange Prize competition

The Deadline

She stood looking up at the house. At the blank grey walls, the shuttered windows with empty boxes on the concrete sills, the stern front door. The house said nothing about what it was or what took place inside, it was unassuming and nondescript and uninviting. She’d come here several times before, but never got the courage to go in. Now, there was no choice. The deadline was today, no last chance of a reprieve or change of heart. If she was going to do it, it had to be now. She shivered, chill from the sudden drop in temperature now the light was fading, or from excitement or from fear, she didn’t know. Also, the sense of possibility that, by pressing this suburban doorbell, her life could – would – alter for good. But still she lingered on the unwashed step, picking at a thread of wool come loose from her glove, caught between the girl she was and the woman she might be. A deadline she never thought she would face…

(Introduction by Kate Mosse)

She walked up stone steps into a long corridor. A bare light bulb flickered and spluttered. Sporadically it popped bright; a burst of white light showed up damp stains on the walls, like the slick shell of a snail, speckled black and brown. The place reminded her of a fairground haunted house. Mushrooms had sprouted from the edges of cornices; delicate grey heads curled out of the wood, bursting from a tangle of slim white stalks. The wallpaper was shredded in places, and strips fell away like origami swan wings. Black and white photographs, chewed and mouldering, hung crookedly here and there. She felt eyes and claws, beaks and noses, straggling out of the frames.

They reminded her of walking along the streets of the city. The reason why the deadline pressed upon her. There was something smarmy that followed her in the crowd, as people jostled for pavement space. It was an insidious filth that crept into the lining and wound around the stitches of her clothes; hot dust that settled on her skin and crystals of dirt that rubbed under her fingernails. Faces became evil and whorish, they snapped at her with tigerish grins. The desire to be lifted up was too much. Tomorrow she would be twenty-four, and her life would be an empty smoke dream: all those listless nights numbed with wine and puffed up with chips sodden in vinegar. She lay catatonic in the darkness, tangled in stale sheets, the distance that yawned between her and the person next to her growing wider. Every day when she came home she rubbed herself raw with little bars of yellow soap, but it was never enough. After a few moments she felt people crawl and clamour at her again, and her skin itched right down to the bone. She wanted her body to be carved away to a neat sample size, her eyebrows to flick into perfect arches, and an eternal red bow to paint over her lips. She had made a call, and fixed an appointment.

The glare of the bulb in the corridor had faded as she reached the doorknob at the far end; the light contracted to two glowing red filaments. As she blindly entered the room beyond, her head filled with an infernal whizzing and whirring: she felt the bones of her skull jarred by the sound of some inscrutable machine. Furniture glowered in the corners; in the gloom she could just make out tables that held some kind of industrial apparatus. As she approached them she saw greasy coils of wire, and test tubes that dripped with a treacly sludge.

‘Hello?’ she called out, wondering where he was.

‘Are you ready?’ a voice replied.

She was led by him to a battered old sofa, where he sat her down and slipped the heels from her feet. He talked her through the different stages once again, all the while unbuttoning and unzipping her clothes. He held her hands as she stepped out of her underskirt, speaking softly:

‘The fifth stage of the process will be signalled by a sound, like the chiming of bells…’

‘And after that?’ she murmured.

‘There will be no more fear, hesitation, or messiness. You will never be ugly or clumsy again!’

‘I’m so glad.’

When she was ready to start he held out a preparation for her to drink. It tasted like a milkshake that had been left out in the sun, thick and powdery, with a slimy translucent film on top. The noise of the room became muffled, as if she had been pushed underwater, and she found it difficult to focus on the objects around her. He guided her up a curving staircase to a small room with a dentist’s chair in the centre. He talked quietly about how things were going to go smoothly and how there would be nothing to worry about anymore. As metal cuffs clinked around her wrists and ankles, she became aware of a sound like the running of a finger round the rim of a water glass. It grew and grew; a pressure inside her head that splintered her thoughts. A sticky drop of blood ran down from her nose to her lip. There was a voice calling in the distance, and then a sensation of cold water slithering down her throat, as if there was a hand reaching deep inside her. Electric lights whizzed and spat in her eyes. Thoughts spun and danced away, until she no longer cared to know them.

After what felt like a long time she awoke to a dark room. She was flawless, he told her. He had scythed away silky layers of fat beneath skin, and cauterized the dimples from her thighs. Bone and leather were fissured into the exoskeleton of a thoroughly modern woman; her stocking seams, tracing down her legs like exposed nerves, would be forever straight. The zip of a pillar-box red skirt crackled, little metal teeth nipped her flesh.

‘Carving out your identity, and your place in the world, is so much easier when your inner self is bound up in ropes and gagged with scarves,’ he laughed as he led her out. He smiled, glanced over the new mask, and checked the stitches one last time. He handed her the manual, which he assured was only for emergencies. The door shut, and she was left alone in the corridor.

As she walked back to the street entrance, she noticed that the glass of the framed pictures on the walls had been smashed. Splinters crunched beneath new patent heels, and she saw herself reflected in the long claw like shards. A girl looked back at her from a glossy world, with a grinning red mouth that split her face in two. The thick mascara made her eyelids droop like a sleepy doll. She bared her teeth at the reflection. This was what perfection felt like.