EPISODE FORTY-SEVEN
No Direction, no meaning to life, nagged and worried Claire as she sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of advertising material that needed collating. She stared into space, feeling empty and depressed.
She heard the front door opening and, not wanting to be caught in an indulgently introspective mood, continued working. Mike entered and made a beeline for the kettle.
‘What’s all this?’ he demanded, as if she had no right to use the kitchen table.
‘Alan’s got these “Pub Grub in Summer” leaflets to get out.’
‘Bloody weather,’ Mike complained. ‘I can’t stand this heat.’
‘You complain when it’s cold, you complain when it’s raining; in fact, all you ever do these days is complain.’
‘I wouldn’t mind if it was sunny, but it’s oppressive heat.’
‘If it wasn’t for the weather, I wonder what we’d find to talk about.’
‘It’s the country’s favourite topic.’
‘I was talking about us.’
‘Yes,’ said Mike, as he stood over the kettle, waiting for it to boil. ‘Ditto.’
Claire stared at him, wondering if he was joking or serious. His humour often verged on the sarcastic, downright rude most of the time. But she had felt the sting of truth in his statement. Their communication seemed to have broken down a long time ago.
‘Mike,’ she began tentatively. ‘Why don’t we take a short break? Go away somewhere for four or five days. France, maybe. It wouldn’t cost much.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t. I’ve got too many clients who want their hair cutting right now. Especially on a Saturday.’
‘But everyone’s entitled to a holiday. Put them on hold for a week.’
‘I can’t do that.’
Claire felt some anger welling inside her. ‘It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me.’
Avoiding her eyes, Mike fetched milk from the fridge.
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘What with Chloe and Andrew, we’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. We need some time together...on our own...to recharge the batteries.’
She got up from the table, walked over to him, and touched his hand gently. As if stung, he withdrew it, almost knocking over his mug.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I just can’t stand being touched like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Softly. It’s repulsive.’
Hurt and angry, she glared at him. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment she knew.
‘Who is she, Mike?’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’
But the innocent, puzzled look didn’t fool her. And no matter how hard he would try to deny it – and perhaps go on denying it – she knew.

‘Hello! I’m home,’ Jackie called out, dreading what she might find. She heard the strident chords of The Weakest Link coming from the living room and breathed a sigh of relief. Everything appeared to be normal.
Vanessa, wearing the designer scruffy denims Jackie hated so much, came out of the kitchen, clutching a pot of fromage frais.
‘Oh. Hi, Mum!’
Jackie wondered if her daughter was surprised or disappointed that she had come home.
‘Where’s Nicky?’ she asked.
Vanessa inclined her head towards the living room. ‘Watching The Weakest Link.’ She nodded at her mother’s suitcase near the front door. ‘You’re back then.’
Jackie hesitated. ‘Well...I felt guilty about leaving you both for so long.’
Vanessa smiled with amusement. ‘Understandable.It wasn’t a party, though. It was a rehearsal.’
Jackie tittered apologetically. ‘It was still pretty loud.’
Brushing past Vanessa, she entered the kitchen. ‘I suppose there’s piles of washing-up to do...Oh! It’s not as bad as I expected.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘Well, I suppose I miss a little bit of mess after being at Nigel’s. He’s such a fusspot. He likes to keep everything “ship-shape”.’
Vanessa’s lip curled scornfully. ‘Don’t I know it. So does this mean you’ve come home because you miss us both, or because you’ve had another row with him?’
‘I...I don’t know what he expects. Everything I do is wrong. ’Her face crumpled and she burst into tears. ‘Oh, Vanessa! I’m so unhappy. I just wanted to come home.’
She launched herself at her daughter and sobbed on her shoulder. Toffee flavoured fromage frais spilled out of the pot in Vanessa’s hand onto the carpet tiles.
Hearing her mother crying, Nicky popped her head round the door, though with some reluctance.
‘Oh, Mummy...er...sorry you’re upset. I...I’ll just find out what happens to the final two contestants, then I’ll be right back.’

IN EPISODE FORTY-EIGHT

The Blackburns are back from Florida and Ted hears the news about Bamber’s operation.

Episode Forty-Eight Homepage