“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.
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