Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you expect them to — Fenner goes barrelling into the wing office and starts pounding on the filing cabinets. He’s a little frustrated about the Yvonne thing.
Meanwhile, Sylvia and Di give Zandra’s cell a spin, but find no drugs. Perhaps it’s finally time to believe the four-eyed homicidal (and adorable) Kewpie doll when she says her head hurts?
Having hurt himself sufficiently in the wing office, Fenner exits to see Yvonne and Nikki chatting about some "golf pictures" of Charlie. Yvonne is doing this entirely to goad Fenner, of course. Nikki eventually figures that out — and isn’t terribly happy about it, having been genuinely interested in Yvonne and her photos. But she plays along anyway. You just can’t have a normal conversation at Larkhall.
Fenner asks Yvonne for a word. They take a little stroll (you know, the sort of stroll that creates a bubble of privacy, even though they’ve only gone two feet).
Yvonne: You’re sweating, Jim. You need to take more exercise.
Snicker. Yvonne continues to control the conversation as Fenner offers up reasons why he can’t help Yvonne escape. Her smooth, threatening demeanor lets him know he’ll have to try.
In black and white — In the library, Helen is reading Nikki’s file. Specifically, she’s digesting Nikki’s statement, in which she describes what she’s in for:
Nikki: [voiceover] I stuck what was left of the broken bottle in his neck. He fell to his knees; he was trying to hold the blood in with his hands. I could tell straightaway he didn’t have a chance. There was a hell of a lot of blood. I didn’t regret a single drop of it. He tried asking me to help him, stupid bastard. I phoned the police then. While we waited, I told him why I stabbed him. He knew anyway; course he did, but I told him anyway. He tried to rape Trisha, and you lot were never gonna do anything about it, were ya? He was one of yours, a copper, and I’m glad the bastard’s dead.
And then Helen reads the judge’s sentencing orders, which include a recommendation that Nikki serve 10 years before being considered for parole.
Helen: Oh, s—.
The door opens; it’s Karen. She asks Helen whether she fancies a drink, if she’s not too busy.
Helen: Never too busy for that. I’d love one.
So they go to Karen’s office for some wine and conversation. Karen reiterates her support for Helen and offers to help if any of the officers give her any trouble.
Helen: How are you gettin’ on with Jim Fenner?
No, not "gettin’ it on." When a lovely Scottish lass says "gettin’ on," it means "getting along." Just so you know.
Karen says Shell retracted her accusations, and Fenner has been a model officer since then.
Helen: As far as you know.
It’s one thing for Helen to speak her mind so freely, but what’s even hotter is that long ohhh in know. Ohhh.
Helen: Just watch him, Karen. He’s a sly bastard.
Karen: Oh, I know.
It’s nice that these two respect each other. (If you haven’t seen the bloopers for this scene, don’t miss them: Simone laughs heartily when offered some cigarettes, plural.)
The yard — Zandra and Crystal talk about the headaches (she still has them) and the drugs (she’s still off them). Apparently the doc is still blaming it all on "withdrawal symptoms."
Crystal: What, ’cause you come off the drugs?
Zandra: [deadpan] No, ’cause I ain’t had a shag in more than a year.
The Kewpie is always quick with a clever quip.