“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.
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