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“Bad Girls” Recaps: Episode 2.13 “Oh What a Night!”

THIS WEEK’S RAP SHEET:

The prowler: Nikki sneaks out into the inky night.

The party girl: Bodybag is the belle of the ball.

The prat: Fenner is back to his loathsome self.

Another Larkhall morning — Ah, here we are again, and I still say it looks like a castle. But I’m sure it doesn’t really smell like one. Or maybe it does: Are we talking modern or medieval?

In the wing office, an exasperated Dominic is rummaging through drawers and shuffling stacks of paper. He has lost a set of photos. They’re for his passport, which disappeared yesterday. Never carry your passport around if you don’t absolutely have to, Dom. And don’t just guess at what the signs say if you’re in a station in Germany — no passport in the world can help you if you board the wrong train and end up hurtling through the heartless darkness, all alone. Trust me on this.

As Dom sighs and frets, Hollamby compiles a guest list.

Fenner: [looking over her shoulder] I don’t see Karen’s name down there.

Hollamby: Why would I want to celebrate 30 years of marriage with the woman who’s just had me demoted?

Fenner: You’re lucky you even have a job after what you did.

Dominic: Why? She only gave a prisoner her key. Where’s the harm in that?

Di, who’s standing as close to Dominic as she can, giggles conspiratorially. Yes, Di, that joke was just for you.

Hollamby wants to know why Fenner is “Betts’ champion” all of a sudden. I think it has something to do with being Betts’ plaything, but I’m trying not to dwell on that because it has already scarred me. Just in time, Karen shows up to ask Sylvia for the guest list; security has been asking her for it. Sylvia quickly adds Karen’s name and turns over the list.

Karen: They also want the names of the red bands serving the food and drinks.

Hold up. Prisoners will be serving the food and drinks? Security needs the guest list? Hollamby’s having her 30th wedding anniversary bash at HMP Larkhall?!

Of course. Why shouldn’t she? Who wouldn’t want to throw a giant anniversary blowout at her place of employment? You know, the place you curse and lament and can’t wait to get away from. It’s the best way to make sure you’re surrounded by friends and esteemed colleagues, including everyone who knows you just got demoted and everyone who saw you take a header down the stairs at the hands of murderous cons. But whatever — there’s that looks-like-a-castle factor, and Hollamby is nothing if not practical. And cheap.

A phone call — Nikki, who is having yet another good hair day (does the woman ever have bad hair days?), is on the phone.

Nikki: Hi, Trish. It’s me. I need a favor, darling. [pausing as Shell bounces by] Cash. Three grand. In two lots. And I’ll need it in a hurry.

Whoa. This seems more like the sort of phone call Yvonne makes. Has Trish joined the mob? More important, is it really wise to ask your ex for three grand? Even more important, what are you going to do with all that cash, Nik?

As if she can’t resist a good cloak-and-dagger conversation, Yvonne stands nearby. She’s chatting with Hollamby about a pending inter-prison visit with her husband, Charlie. Shell bounces back over and wonders why Yvonne wants to see Charlie anyway, considering Renee Williams’ revelation regarding his extracurricular activities.

Yvonne: It’s called love. You don’t break up a marriage on the say-so of a tart.

This reminds me: Hillary in ’08!

Shell: She seemed to know him pretty well. Especially what she said about that scar.

Yvonne: You’ll have a scar if you don’t piss off.

That was sort of the mob equivalent of “I know you are, but what am I?” but it worked anyway.

More shenanigans — The music gets all mysterious as Nikki slips into her cell and removes the bandage from her hand. She takes the phone card she was just using and digs the corner of it into her gardening-fork-induced wound, making it gush all over again.

She finds the nearest screw, which happens to be Di, and holds up her bloody hand. Nice afflicted expression, Nikki: Quite a change from your usual stoicism.

She’s back, and she’s still wearing that jacket — Helen arrives for work. She’s putting her big butch keys back in their pouch. I didn’t even realize there was a pouch involved. It’s sort of dorky-looking, like a fanny pack (which is not called a fanny pack in the UK because that would be something else entirely), so I think I’ll go back to focusing on the badass belt chain.

Jim welcomes Helen to the workday:

Fenner: Hello, Helen.

Helen: Jim.

Fenner: I hear you’ve got a promotion board coming up.

Helen: [amused] Been playing golf again with Number One?

Fenner: I have to say, he’s not too keen on your little plan to turn G wing into a lifers unit.

Helen: Rrreally.

Jim: You know it’s not gonna happen.

Helen: [stopping and facing him] Oh, it will, Jim. If I want it to.

Wow, those keys really do amp up a girl’s confidence! Before Helen can continue to squash Fenner with her bravado, Nikki and Di come through a gate on their way to the infirmary. In an instant, Helen goes from brash to bereft. Di says good morning and Helen returns the greeting, but Nikki says nothing. She just gives Helen a look that says, “See what my life is like without you? All pestilence and strife.”

Jim sees the exchange of gazes, not to mention Nikki’s wounded hand, and twists it all to hell:

Fenner: [to Helen] Looks like it’ll be a while before she gets it up for ya, love.

OK, I’ll admit it: I chuckled. If you’re going to be a bastard, at least be a funny one. Helen gives Fenner a stunned glare, then goes back to following Nikki with her eyes.

That’s some serious regret on Helen’s face. I’d say she wants nothing more than to comfort her favorite con, but she daren’t make a move. As the commenters on the last recap noted, the Nikki-Helen dynamic is a crazy one. There are so many power issues, it’s amazing they’ve made any kind of connection. Helen’s not just a rueful lover; she’s a prison service professional, stuck between caring for and caring about. And rooted to the spot, at the moment.

An offer she can’t refuse — Once she’s alone with the nurse, Nikki reveals her plan: She’ll give the nurse £3000 — all she needs to get to Australia, where her boyfriend waits patiently — in exchange for cover.

Nikki: I need to get out of here for one night. Wanna help me?

Nurse: You’re crazy!

Nikki: No, I’m not. Look: The screws’ party tomorrow night couldn’t be a better time. ‘Cause the night patrol will all want their turn for a free drink. You offer to cover for them. They’ll love you.

Nurse: And you get out, and you’re never seen again.

Nikki: I can’t afford to leg it! I’ve got my lawyer applying for my appeal. All I need is just this one night.

The nurse says she should report Nikki, but the promise of three thousand quid makes her hesitate. I half expect her eyes to turn into cartoon dollar signs. Er, pound signs.

Accepting the idea of an anniversary party at Larkhall was one thing, but hold up again: Nikki’s going to escape for a night? All this time I’ve been having fantasies about Helen and Nikki having a little weekend slumber party down the block or stowing away in the pouting shed for some outdoor recreation. But clearly I wasn’t imaginative enough to keep up with this show, because it never occurred to me that Nikki would be the one to overcome the inconveniences of incarceration. No wonder she loves you, Nik: You’re sexy, big-hearted and clever! And, well, completely lawless at times, but never mind.

Once more, as the second season comes to a close, I have to marvel at this story line. Again, not only was it the central plot on a prime-time series in the UK, but the gleeful title of this episode — “Oh What a Night!” — refers in part to a woman’s efforts to break out of jail for a night to see her lover. Now that’s visibility, with nary an L word in sight.

The servery of ingenuity — Yvonne is explaining something to Shell and the Julies. It involves a plastic bag and a lot of faith.

Yvonne: … we stuff it down our fronts and make, like, a little kangaroo pouch.

It seems the feisty four have been selected to serve the refreshments at Bodybag’s big party, and Yvonne’s plan is to snag half-finished drinks, stash the spare liquor in their trouser pouches and have their own party later. The Julies and Shell are about as impressed as you are.

Nikki: What?!

Helen: Now, before anyone notices that you’ve gone.

Nikki: Don’t be stupid. I can’t go back there till the morning shift. Think about it.

Helen: [sighing] S—.

Helen leans away from Nikki, toward the nightstand, presumably to get out of bed. Nikki pulls her back. She just wants to spoon. But all Helen wants to do is hide a piece of paper she’s just spotted on the nightstand.

Nikki: What’s that?

Helen: [sighing] It’s a letter from your solicitor. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s bad news.

Nikki: [sobbing]

Let’s see: What have we learned? First, Helen prefers to use the pet name “sweetheart,” especially while in bed. Second, Nikki gets all weepy after sex (in case you needed more proof that she’s a lesbian). Third, this is all going way too fast! Can we please see the scene between the shirt-rending and the bed? (Yes, you can.)

Last house on the left — Dominic and Di are sharing a cab. Di gets out first; the cab waits while she fumbles for her keys. Yes, that old trick. Dominic gets out to see if he can help. Of course, then she finds her keys. But what a perfect time to invite him in for a nightcap! She does, and he almost stays. But then Di’s mother calls to her and Dom decides it’s best not to disturb her.

It all takes a turn for the creepy and the Lifetime-meets-V.C.-Andrews as Di goes in, ignores her incontinent mother and head rights for the shrine to Dominic in her bedroom. So that’s where those passport photos went.

Throwing good wine after bad rubbish — In her cell, Yvonne dips into her pants to get a cup of wine. I typed that, and then I deleted it and retyped it in disbelief, but it’s still exactly what she’s doing. Too. Many. Jokes.

But this is a bitter cup: As she glances over to the bulletin board and sees her picture of Charlie, a rage bubbles up inside her. She throws the cup of wine at the photo, losing both the chance to get buzzed and the chance to sleep on a dry bunk.

Reunited — Crystal is back at the hostel. But Josh is there too — Denny called him and told him where to find his ladyfriend. At first Josh is unsure, but when he sees that Crystal is still wearing his ring around her neck, he grins in his cute boyish way and takes her home with him. Aw, that’s sweet. Good for you, Crosh. Or is it Jystal? Either way, can we get back to the couple I really care about?

To your health — Nikki’s doing shots of vodka as she and Helen sit on the couch in their robes. I had no idea what sort of liquor you’re supposed to serve with bad news from solicitors. Helen’s a much better host than I will ever be.

Helen: It’s not the end of the line. It’s not! Claire said she’s gonna go right ahead and apply to the Criminal Cases Review Commission. She’s gonna come in and see you about it next week. You’re not gonna give up!

Nikki: You kidding? No way.

Helen: [sighing with relief] Well, good, because neither am I. [sighing again] I love you, Nikki.

They lean back on the couch as if to cuddle. But cuddling is never just cuddling with these two.

Nikki: Enough to give everything up for me?

Helen: Yeah. You know how much.

Nikki: I’m not going back to that prison, Helen. Not after this. This is my last chance now. If I go back, I just know I’m gonna be there till I’m bloody 50. You won’t wait that long for me.

Helen: Nikki, it won’t be that long. If the CCRC takes up your case —

Nikki: If. If, if. What if they don’t? Do you really think I could handle that? ‘Cause I’m telling you, after what we’ve been through this week, I just know I’d go totally mad. We’ve gotta run for it. Tonight.

Helen: Nikki. You are talking absolute crap!

Nikki: I can get a passport. Trish can help me.

Helen: We’re not going on the run.

Nikki: [thinking] No. No, of course, that’d be stupid. I’ll go on ahead. I can be out of the country before they even miss me. San Francisco. And then when the heat’s off, you can come out and join me.

Helen: Nikki —

Nikki: If you love me enough.

If she what? Let me just take this opportunity to tell everyone in the world that I don’t love you enough to go on the lam for you. Or if I do, you should at least ask me nicely to do so, instead of expecting me to just whip out a hobo stick and hurtle myself into the nearest boxcar.

Helen: What kind of life would that be for us?

Nikki: Better than if we wait for bloody justice. It’s true, Helen, you know it is.

Helen: [getting up] No. No, no, no it isn’t! Don’t even think about this. This is not an option.

Nikki: It’s the only one we’ve got. Say you’ll do it.

Helen: I can’t. I can’t.

Nikki: Yes, you can. You will. I’ve gotta go now.

She asks Helen to call her a cab. Helen — the idealistic prison service professional, the best governor G wing’s ever had and a believer in the justice system despite everything she’s seen — continues to protest, but she’s realizing there’s no way to talk Nikki out of this. Also, it’s so hard to stand by your principles when you’re aroused.

Nikki: Darling, please. Please trust me.

Helen: [flatly] OK. Go get ready.

But that was sort of a “Yes, dear” line — as soon as Nikki goes into the bedroom to get dressed, Helen picks up the phone and dials 999 (the equivalent of 911 in the U.S.). Her face is threatening to crumble into tears, but she holds herself together.

Hang up! Hang up now and take that robe off! I mean, uh, get dressed. Something, anything: Just hang up.

A different sort of escape — The party’s over; Larkhall is quiet. Fenner pays a visit to Shell’s cell and finds her all tarted up. He closes the cell door and pushes her to the bunk, kissing her like a daub of spackle kisses a wall. As he puts on his ineffectual moves, Shell reaches under her bunk and pulls out a broken bottle.

Now I know why they call these things “cliffhangers.” Between this and Helen’s fateful phone call, I’m holding on for dear life!

NEXT TIME ON BAD GIRLS: We’ll have to wait till the end of August to find out — Logo’s taking a little break, and therefore so am I. Try not to go crazy with suspense!

Dominic: I’m not a very good dancer.

Di: You just wriggle your body.

Dom looks like he’d like to wriggle into his pint glass, especially when one of Di’s straps snaps. I feel like I’m 12 and at a school dance, and I’m not even in this scene!

Dom giggles and points out that Di did say she wanted to show a bit of flesh. Clearly he feels like he’s 12 too.

Here we go — Who’s that? Is it Dusty Springfield? Carol Brady? No, it’s Nikki in her jailbreak wig!

It’s like she’s getting ready to be Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen. On nights like this, when the world seems quite amiss, a blonde wig sure can change your life.

The brown wig stays behind and does its deceptive duty on the pillow as Nikki and the night nurse make their way through a series of gates and corridors. You know, sometimes Nikki’s walk betrays her as not so very butch — not that that’s a bad thing. She’s got a little girly sway going on her hips, is all I’m saying.

The nurse escorts her to the locker room and then abandons her. Nikki’s still stoic and determined, but she very nearly plotzes when Di comes into the locker room, braying about her broken strap. Luckily, Di is far too involved in her own adolescent woes to notice the bad wig or the badly behaving prisoner beneath it. Nikki eases on out and heads for the main gate.

I sort of feel like I’m in a video game all of a sudden: Check the lockers for extra ammo, Nikki!

Back in the dance hall — The boys in the band include a girl, on sax. She seems to be the leader, and she also seems to have just stepped out of a Harry Potter book. Why is she getting so much screen time? Is that you, Zandra, back from the dead with your specs and different hair?

One more gate — Nikki mumbles her way through the front gate. The clueless (and possibly a bit tipsy) screw on duty doesn’t bat an eye when her name — “Ford” — isn’t on the sign-in list.

When Nikki steps out into the night, she can barely hide the smile and wonder on her face. She’s almost tiptoeing, as if she doesn’t want to breathe for fear of bursting her own bubble. It’s the complete opposite of Crystal’s tentative steps into an empty world. Nikki’s hesitation is the awestruck kind that Barbra Streisand captures in “This Is One of Those Moments.” Yes, I just compared Bad Girls to Yentl. This scene is that big and that breathless, at least on my part. Be careful, Nikki! But not too careful: Haul ass!

A tribute — Back at the party, Bobby gives a little speech in honor of Sylvia. Maybe they all know her as a prison officer, but he knows her as a wife and as the mother of their three children, “Constance, Gail and little Bobby Darin.” Yvonne snorts so hard at that last name, she almost loses her teeth. Does the hooch pouch double as a Depends when you need one?

Karen gives Sylvia the group gift. A now high Hollamby tears it open, only to find a … is that a hole punch? An office implement, anyway — not the engraved clock. Gee, I wonder who made off with that? Sylvia is so tweaked, she doesn’t really care. She just wants to boogie.

There’s a reason they call it ecstasy.

Urban warrior — Nikki tears off her wig and boards a bus. Where did she get the fare? How does she even know where she is? Just how thorough is that prison library collection? They might want to rethink the Great Escapes for Dummies book the next time they weed it.

Nikki sits at the very back of the bus and stares out the rear window. So long, Larkhall suckers!

I cannot believe she’s actually doing this. It’s so tense and exciting, like a non-rabbit version of Watership Down.

In a prison of her own making — Crystal and her newly acquired clock are at a hostel. She has no friends in that dingy, infested-looking place, so she goes out into the night too — but in a lot less spirited way than Nikki did. She doesn’t have a particular destination; the best she can do is a cafe and some chips.

I don’t feel like dancin’ — Sylvia is still cutting a rug. And she’s really, really thirsty. Bobby’s getting embarrassed and doesn’t want to dance anymore, not even when Sylvia starts pirouetting and the steps get all complicated. Way to maintain the frame, Bodybag!

Karen doesn’t want to dance either, especially not with Fenner, who’s trying to get her drunk.

Home sweet home — Guess where Nikki is? Well, there’s a red door, and there’s a doorbell, and there’s a very surprised woman in the doorway.

Helen: [gasping] Nikki! What the fff —

Nikki: I’ve gotta talk to you.

Helen: No. [closing the door] No!

Let’s just take a moment to praise Lahbib for the intensely fricative fffff.

Nikki stands on the stoop and begs to be let in, insisting that no one knows she’s there. Inside, Helen’s eyes do a little dance of indecision and land on the phone.

That’s not the girl-on-girl action we’re looking for — Hollamby gets all friendly with Di, kissing her in a straight-girl way (and a high-on-E way). Dom just stares in disbelief.

The two Julies and Yvonne go around collecting half-drunk drinks for their pouches. That sentence must be so confusing out of context.

Fight or flight? — Nikki threatens to smash Helen’s window if she doesn’t let her in. Temper, temper! Inside, Helen struggles valiantly with herself. She gives in and hustles to the door.

30 years and counting — Sylvia begs Bobby to dance, but he just wants a rest and a drink.

Bodybag: There’s always some excuse, isn’t there? Too tired. Sore back. [to the onlookers] He says it’s carryin’ the coffins. I think there’s something wrong in the waterworks department, if you know what I mean.

So Sylvia grabs Dominic and smothers him with kisses. When Bobby insists that she leave with him, she sticks up two fingers and lets him go out the door on his own.

As Karen Walker once said, it’s funny ’cause it’s sad.

Yes and no — Helen is doing her best to resist Nikki.

Helen: Nikki. I am an employee of the Home Office. Do you have any idea?!

I have some idea of what Nikki’s most likely looking at right now.

Nikki: Don’t worry. I’m not gonna get caught.

Helen: You are completely mad!

Nikki: [going to Helen, pulling her close] I love you. When I thought I’d pissed you off, I didn’t know how I could live. And then I got this chance. I just wanna make the most of it. We’ve got a whole night together.

Helen: [pushing her away] No, Nikki. This is not the way.

Nikki: [pulling her back] Tell me you love me.

If you listen and watch closely, you can hear Helen say, “Oh, Nicola” as she leans in for a kiss. And such breathy, needy kisses they are. Desperate. Certain. Finally.

I don’t know what to do. This dream has been deferred for so long, I can’t believe it’s finally coming true. I want to rewind, but I can’t move! Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good, because this is what I’ve been wanting to see on my TV my entire life. Subtext is fun, but main text is fan-freakin-tastic!

OK, some of the kisses are a little peckish. And some of that dialogue was kinda clunky; props to both actresses, especially Mandana Jones, for making it sound so delicious. She didn’t even have to, though, because when Helen grabs at Nikki’s shirt, I forget every word I’ve ever heard.

Mary Katherine Gallagher would be proud — Yvonne and the two Julies place all the pilfered drinks on a table in preparation for the pouch filling. But when Karen tries to convince Hollamby to go home, good ol’ Bodybag flails around and promptly falls backward against the table of drinks, ruining the inmates’ after-party and what’s left of everyone’s opinion of her.

I love the way Hollamby so obviously steps closer to the table, as if she’s warning it that she’s about to bring it down. Or as if the actress herself is on E.

Anyway, it’s Hollamby’s party, and she’ll cry if she wants to — she’ll hugely, embarrassingly cry. Kids, don’t slip your mother an E if you don’t want to see this kind of howling and blubbering. Get home to that mutton-chopped man of yours, Syl!

Post coital — Helen and Nikki are in bed. Together. Naked. OMG.

Do they look like a painting, or am I just that far gone?

Helen: You’re amazing.

Nikki: So are you.

No, you are! You just totally had sex!

Nikki: I’ve imagined this so many times. I can’t believe I’ve really got you. Everything’s possible now. A whole future!

Helen: Nikki. Sweetheart, you know that I’ve gotta get you back to Larkhall.

What?!

Nikki: What?!

Helen: Now, before anyone notices that you’ve gone.

Nikki: Don’t be stupid. I can’t go back there till the morning shift. Think about it.

Helen: [sighing] S—.

Helen leans away from Nikki, toward the nightstand, presumably to get out of bed. Nikki pulls her back. She just wants to spoon. But all Helen wants to do is hide a piece of paper she’s just spotted on the nightstand.

Nikki: What’s that?

Helen: [sighing] It’s a letter from your solicitor. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s bad news.

Nikki: [sobbing]

Let’s see: What have we learned? First, Helen prefers to use the pet name “sweetheart,” especially while in bed. Second, Nikki gets all weepy after sex (in case you needed more proof that she’s a lesbian). Third, this is all going way too fast! Can we please see the scene between the shirt-rending and the bed? (Yes, you can.)

Last house on the left — Dominic and Di are sharing a cab. Di gets out first; the cab waits while she fumbles for her keys. Yes, that old trick. Dominic gets out to see if he can help. Of course, then she finds her keys. But what a perfect time to invite him in for a nightcap! She does, and he almost stays. But then Di’s mother calls to her and Dom decides it’s best not to disturb her.

It all takes a turn for the creepy and the Lifetime-meets-V.C.-Andrews as Di goes in, ignores her incontinent mother and head rights for the shrine to Dominic in her bedroom. So that’s where those passport photos went.

Throwing good wine after bad rubbish — In her cell, Yvonne dips into her pants to get a cup of wine. I typed that, and then I deleted it and retyped it in disbelief, but it’s still exactly what she’s doing. Too. Many. Jokes.

But this is a bitter cup: As she glances over to the bulletin board and sees her picture of Charlie, a rage bubbles up inside her. She throws the cup of wine at the photo, losing both the chance to get buzzed and the chance to sleep on a dry bunk.

Reunited — Crystal is back at the hostel. But Josh is there too — Denny called him and told him where to find his ladyfriend. At first Josh is unsure, but when he sees that Crystal is still wearing his ring around her neck, he grins in his cute boyish way and takes her home with him. Aw, that’s sweet. Good for you, Crosh. Or is it Jystal? Either way, can we get back to the couple I really care about?

To your health — Nikki’s doing shots of vodka as she and Helen sit on the couch in their robes. I had no idea what sort of liquor you’re supposed to serve with bad news from solicitors. Helen’s a much better host than I will ever be.

Helen: It’s not the end of the line. It’s not! Claire said she’s gonna go right ahead and apply to the Criminal Cases Review Commission. She’s gonna come in and see you about it next week. You’re not gonna give up!

Nikki: You kidding? No way.

Helen: [sighing with relief] Well, good, because neither am I. [sighing again] I love you, Nikki.

They lean back on the couch as if to cuddle. But cuddling is never just cuddling with these two.

Nikki: Enough to give everything up for me?

Helen: Yeah. You know how much.

Nikki: I’m not going back to that prison, Helen. Not after this. This is my last chance now. If I go back, I just know I’m gonna be there till I’m bloody 50. You won’t wait that long for me.

Helen: Nikki, it won’t be that long. If the CCRC takes up your case —

Nikki: If. If, if. What if they don’t? Do you really think I could handle that? ‘Cause I’m telling you, after what we’ve been through this week, I just know I’d go totally mad. We’ve gotta run for it. Tonight.

Helen: Nikki. You are talking absolute crap!

Nikki: I can get a passport. Trish can help me.

Helen: We’re not going on the run.

Nikki: [thinking] No. No, of course, that’d be stupid. I’ll go on ahead. I can be out of the country before they even miss me. San Francisco. And then when the heat’s off, you can come out and join me.

Helen: Nikki —

Nikki: If you love me enough.

If she what? Let me just take this opportunity to tell everyone in the world that I don’t love you enough to go on the lam for you. Or if I do, you should at least ask me nicely to do so, instead of expecting me to just whip out a hobo stick and hurtle myself into the nearest boxcar.

Helen: What kind of life would that be for us?

Nikki: Better than if we wait for bloody justice. It’s true, Helen, you know it is.

Helen: [getting up] No. No, no, no it isn’t! Don’t even think about this. This is not an option.

Nikki: It’s the only one we’ve got. Say you’ll do it.

Helen: I can’t. I can’t.

Nikki: Yes, you can. You will. I’ve gotta go now.

She asks Helen to call her a cab. Helen — the idealistic prison service professional, the best governor G wing’s ever had and a believer in the justice system despite everything she’s seen — continues to protest, but she’s realizing there’s no way to talk Nikki out of this. Also, it’s so hard to stand by your principles when you’re aroused.

Nikki: Darling, please. Please trust me.

Helen: [flatly] OK. Go get ready.

But that was sort of a “Yes, dear” line — as soon as Nikki goes into the bedroom to get dressed, Helen picks up the phone and dials 999 (the equivalent of 911 in the U.S.). Her face is threatening to crumble into tears, but she holds herself together.

Hang up! Hang up now and take that robe off! I mean, uh, get dressed. Something, anything: Just hang up.

A different sort of escape — The party’s over; Larkhall is quiet. Fenner pays a visit to Shell’s cell and finds her all tarted up. He closes the cell door and pushes her to the bunk, kissing her like a daub of spackle kisses a wall. As he puts on his ineffectual moves, Shell reaches under her bunk and pulls out a broken bottle.

Now I know why they call these things “cliffhangers.” Between this and Helen’s fateful phone call, I’m holding on for dear life!

NEXT TIME ON BAD GIRLS: We’ll have to wait till the end of August to find out — Logo’s taking a little break, and therefore so am I. Try not to go crazy with suspense!

Yvonne: Remember, we’re gonna have really baggy tracksuit bottoms on. Be plenty of space.

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to get into your pants, Yvonne, but this is wholly unappealing. And cockamamie.

Loose lips — Over a meal, Barbara and Nikki discuss their weekend plans.

Barbara: So you didn’t get to the lifers’ meeting at all?

Nikki: No.

Barbara: Well, you’re gonna have a long wait till you see her on Monday, then.

Nikki: Not necessarily.

If Barbara were Scooby Doo, she’d have made a goofy ear-perking noise just then. And Nikki, shush! But she won’t, even when Barbara says there’s no chance an agency nurse will be left in charge of a night shift.

Nikki: I thought you’d have known by now: What screws ought to do, and what they get away with … it’s criminal.

Groan. But I guess we almost made it through two seasons without someone making that joke, so that’s something.

A less well-laid plan — In a private visiting room, Yvonne waits for her husband to arrive. Hollamby radios the gate — her handle is Zulu because that’s just how groovy she is — and asks what’s up. It seems Charlie won’t be visiting after all.

Hollamby gives Yvonne the bad news and stands by as Yvonne sobs. Ugh, I can’t bear to watch: Not because it’s sad, but because it’s so damn soapy.

Yvonne: My Charlie wouldn’t do this to me! He just wouldn’t!

No, but the writers would!

Crystal’s last breakfast at Larkhall — Or not. Crystal’s getting ready to depart, but Dom shows up and says there’s a problem with her travel warrant. It doesn’t really matter: Nobody’s waiting for Crystal anyway. The Julies look on sadly as she tries not to despair.

Yvonne’s cell — Fenner slithers in and offers some false sympathy. He mentions Renee Williams’ name and hints that maybe Yvonne had something to do with her death. Or maybe he’s just taunting her in a more general way; I can’t quite see through all the slime.

The wing office — Di shows Dom the anniversary gift she has bought for Sylvia and her husband. It’s an engraved clock. Crystal interrupts, asking when she can leave. They invite her into the office for some tea and sympathy. She sits down on the couch; her eye falls on the clock. (At this point, my girlfriend asked, “What’s Crystal in for?” — and then rolled her eyes most expressively when I replied, “Shoplifting.”)

Nearby, in a similar display of misplaced trust, Shell thanks Karen for sticking by her and helping her get her kids away from her perv of a father. Shell, sometimes you really are pathetic, in the sense of moving one to feel pity for you. And sometimes in the other sense too, of course.

A farewell — Oh, I guess they’ve cleared up the issues with Crystal’s travel warrant or whatever. She’s making her way through a throng of well-wishers. It’s nice when people leave. It gives us all hope for this mixed-up world! I like Yvonne’s geeky goodbye the best: She tells Crystal to “keep on strummin’.” They all wave and cheer Crystal on as she takes a last look back.

And out she goes, into the brave world of the prison parking lot, where no one waits. She sees a bald guy and her hope soars briefly, but when she calls out, “Josh!” the stranger turns and she realizes her mistake. I think I’d attack the guy and get myself a little more time in Larkhall rather than face the whole lotta nothin’ Crystal’s facing.

Nikki and the nervous night nurse — As the drink servers are escorted to the party and everyone else is locked up for the night, the nurse brings Nikki a uniform, a couple of wigs and detailed instructions for her one-night-only escape. Nikki looks all fierce and determined. She’d have to be, I guess: I’d probably crumble and turn myself in. Nah, for a night with Helen, I could do stoic too. Stoic and frickin’ supernatural, if necessary.

Out in the common area, Fenner is making his final rounds for the night. He tells Denny and Shaz to go “canoodle” in their cell rather than in the hallway. There’s canoodling in prison? If Shaz’s precious karaoke ever becomes a reality, this place will have everything.

Fenner’s not so friendly to Barbara and Nikki. He tells his least favorite cons to behave themselves. Why wouldn’t they, while the screws on the right side of the law dance and drink under the same roof? It’s almost like the officers are begging the inmates to “kick off.”

The minute Fenner leaves, Nikki arranges her bunk, putting the brown wig on her pillow to pass as her slumbering pate. She tells Barbara to turn away to protect her innocent bystander status.

Hollamby’s hoedown — Sylvia and her husband Bobby arrive, to applause. I feel like these two could be on an episode of Creature Comforts — only no animal stand-ins would be necessary. They already look like a peacock and a penguin.

Bobby and his sideburns introduce themselves to Karen Betts. He seems charmed by her even though he’s trying to scold her.

Bobby: I’m not saying it’s easy running a prison wing, but it seems to me you were a bit hasty demoting my wife, yeah?

Karen: Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?

And then she walks away with a smile. I really must try to remember these things: I learn so many social niceties from this show.

Di, who is decked out in a skin-baring dress that just makes her look even more like the “always a bridesmaid” sort who has nothing to curl up with at night but a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, guzzles wine while she waits for Dominic to arrive. When he does, she waits for him to say something about her outfit. He finally asks whether the dress is new — he’s a sweetheart (and a fool) like that.

Di: I mean, I thought: What the hell? It’s an occasion. Show a bit of flesh.

I think they call her Di because that’s what I’m about to do, from awkwardness. It only gets worse when Dom says he needs a drink. Di chugs her wine so she can ask Dom to get her another. I think Di’s going to end up wishing she had worn some of those baggy track pants fitted with a hooch pouch, from the Atkins spring collection.

Bobby, still intent on defending his wife’s honor — and possibly on getting to know the lovely Miss Betts, who towers over him by about six inches — asks Karen to save him a dance. Fenner interrupts like the boor that he is, claiming and showing off his woman. Karen is not amused. When Bobby leaves, she tells Jim to stop being so obvious. Yeah, Fenner: Just club her over the head next time. That’s what this story line is doing to us, after all.

Yvonne watches from afar and posits a theory to Shell: She thinks Fenner and Betts are shagging. Very perceptive, Yvonne. Next you’ll be telling us Nikki’s a lesbian.

The band kicks into gear, and so do Sylvia and Bobby. (Helen Fraser, who plays Sylvia, was a dancer in her younger years, and is still fairly light on her feet. For a Bodybag, anyway.) As they twirl, Yvonne, Shell and the Julies make plans to speed up their moves.

Yvonne: I was gonna slip her an E.

Shell: What, a whole one? She’ll go up like a sodding rocket!

Julie J.: Give it here.

So the E is handed off and slipped into a glass of wine. Shell distracts Karen with a confrontation: She tells her she didn’t lie about Fenner hitting her. Karen seems to take it seriously, but Karen’s a tricky one. Just when you think she’s all cool-headed and bossy, she snogs a caveman.

This is worse than watching Bush do the malaria awareness dance — Di and Dom are dancing. Dominic is trying really, really hard not to, but it’s not working.

Dominic: I’m not a very good dancer.

Di: You just wriggle your body.

Dom looks like he’d like to wriggle into his pint glass, especially when one of Di’s straps snaps. I feel like I’m 12 and at a school dance, and I’m not even in this scene!

Dom giggles and points out that Di did say she wanted to show a bit of flesh. Clearly he feels like he’s 12 too.

Here we go — Who’s that? Is it Dusty Springfield? Carol Brady? No, it’s Nikki in her jailbreak wig!

It’s like she’s getting ready to be Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen. On nights like this, when the world seems quite amiss, a blonde wig sure can change your life.

The brown wig stays behind and does its deceptive duty on the pillow as Nikki and the night nurse make their way through a series of gates and corridors. You know, sometimes Nikki’s walk betrays her as not so very butch — not that that’s a bad thing. She’s got a little girly sway going on her hips, is all I’m saying.

The nurse escorts her to the locker room and then abandons her. Nikki’s still stoic and determined, but she very nearly plotzes when Di comes into the locker room, braying about her broken strap. Luckily, Di is far too involved in her own adolescent woes to notice the bad wig or the badly behaving prisoner beneath it. Nikki eases on out and heads for the main gate.

I sort of feel like I’m in a video game all of a sudden: Check the lockers for extra ammo, Nikki!

Back in the dance hall — The boys in the band include a girl, on sax. She seems to be the leader, and she also seems to have just stepped out of a Harry Potter book. Why is she getting so much screen time? Is that you, Zandra, back from the dead with your specs and different hair?

One more gate — Nikki mumbles her way through the front gate. The clueless (and possibly a bit tipsy) screw on duty doesn’t bat an eye when her name — “Ford” — isn’t on the sign-in list.

When Nikki steps out into the night, she can barely hide the smile and wonder on her face. She’s almost tiptoeing, as if she doesn’t want to breathe for fear of bursting her own bubble. It’s the complete opposite of Crystal’s tentative steps into an empty world. Nikki’s hesitation is the awestruck kind that Barbra Streisand captures in “This Is One of Those Moments.” Yes, I just compared Bad Girls to Yentl. This scene is that big and that breathless, at least on my part. Be careful, Nikki! But not too careful: Haul ass!

A tribute — Back at the party, Bobby gives a little speech in honor of Sylvia. Maybe they all know her as a prison officer, but he knows her as a wife and as the mother of their three children, “Constance, Gail and little Bobby Darin.” Yvonne snorts so hard at that last name, she almost loses her teeth. Does the hooch pouch double as a Depends when you need one?

Karen gives Sylvia the group gift. A now high Hollamby tears it open, only to find a … is that a hole punch? An office implement, anyway — not the engraved clock. Gee, I wonder who made off with that? Sylvia is so tweaked, she doesn’t really care. She just wants to boogie.

There’s a reason they call it ecstasy.

Urban warrior — Nikki tears off her wig and boards a bus. Where did she get the fare? How does she even know where she is? Just how thorough is that prison library collection? They might want to rethink the Great Escapes for Dummies book the next time they weed it.

Nikki sits at the very back of the bus and stares out the rear window. So long, Larkhall suckers!

I cannot believe she’s actually doing this. It’s so tense and exciting, like a non-rabbit version of Watership Down.

In a prison of her own making — Crystal and her newly acquired clock are at a hostel. She has no friends in that dingy, infested-looking place, so she goes out into the night too — but in a lot less spirited way than Nikki did. She doesn’t have a particular destination; the best she can do is a cafe and some chips.

I don’t feel like dancin’ — Sylvia is still cutting a rug. And she’s really, really thirsty. Bobby’s getting embarrassed and doesn’t want to dance anymore, not even when Sylvia starts pirouetting and the steps get all complicated. Way to maintain the frame, Bodybag!

Karen doesn’t want to dance either, especially not with Fenner, who’s trying to get her drunk.

Home sweet home — Guess where Nikki is? Well, there’s a red door, and there’s a doorbell, and there’s a very surprised woman in the doorway.

Helen: [gasping] Nikki! What the fff —

Nikki: I’ve gotta talk to you.

Helen: No. [closing the door] No!

Let’s just take a moment to praise Lahbib for the intensely fricative fffff.

Nikki stands on the stoop and begs to be let in, insisting that no one knows she’s there. Inside, Helen’s eyes do a little dance of indecision and land on the phone.

That’s not the girl-on-girl action we’re looking for — Hollamby gets all friendly with Di, kissing her in a straight-girl way (and a high-on-E way). Dom just stares in disbelief.

The two Julies and Yvonne go around collecting half-drunk drinks for their pouches. That sentence must be so confusing out of context.

Fight or flight? — Nikki threatens to smash Helen’s window if she doesn’t let her in. Temper, temper! Inside, Helen struggles valiantly with herself. She gives in and hustles to the door.

30 years and counting — Sylvia begs Bobby to dance, but he just wants a rest and a drink.

Bodybag: There’s always some excuse, isn’t there? Too tired. Sore back. [to the onlookers] He says it’s carryin’ the coffins. I think there’s something wrong in the waterworks department, if you know what I mean.

So Sylvia grabs Dominic and smothers him with kisses. When Bobby insists that she leave with him, she sticks up two fingers and lets him go out the door on his own.

As Karen Walker once said, it’s funny ’cause it’s sad.

Yes and no — Helen is doing her best to resist Nikki.

Helen: Nikki. I am an employee of the Home Office. Do you have any idea?!

I have some idea of what Nikki’s most likely looking at right now.

Nikki: Don’t worry. I’m not gonna get caught.

Helen: You are completely mad!

Nikki: [going to Helen, pulling her close] I love you. When I thought I’d pissed you off, I didn’t know how I could live. And then I got this chance. I just wanna make the most of it. We’ve got a whole night together.

Helen: [pushing her away] No, Nikki. This is not the way.

Nikki: [pulling her back] Tell me you love me.

If you listen and watch closely, you can hear Helen say, “Oh, Nicola” as she leans in for a kiss. And such breathy, needy kisses they are. Desperate. Certain. Finally.

I don’t know what to do. This dream has been deferred for so long, I can’t believe it’s finally coming true. I want to rewind, but I can’t move! Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good, because this is what I’ve been wanting to see on my TV my entire life. Subtext is fun, but main text is fan-freakin-tastic!

OK, some of the kisses are a little peckish. And some of that dialogue was kinda clunky; props to both actresses, especially Mandana Jones, for making it sound so delicious. She didn’t even have to, though, because when Helen grabs at Nikki’s shirt, I forget every word I’ve ever heard.

Mary Katherine Gallagher would be proud — Yvonne and the two Julies place all the pilfered drinks on a table in preparation for the pouch filling. But when Karen tries to convince Hollamby to go home, good ol’ Bodybag flails around and promptly falls backward against the table of drinks, ruining the inmates’ after-party and what’s left of everyone’s opinion of her.

I love the way Hollamby so obviously steps closer to the table, as if she’s warning it that she’s about to bring it down. Or as if the actress herself is on E.

Anyway, it’s Hollamby’s party, and she’ll cry if she wants to — she’ll hugely, embarrassingly cry. Kids, don’t slip your mother an E if you don’t want to see this kind of howling and blubbering. Get home to that mutton-chopped man of yours, Syl!

Post coital — Helen and Nikki are in bed. Together. Naked. OMG.

Do they look like a painting, or am I just that far gone?

Helen: You’re amazing.

Nikki: So are you.

No, you are! You just totally had sex!

Nikki: I’ve imagined this so many times. I can’t believe I’ve really got you. Everything’s possible now. A whole future!

Helen: Nikki. Sweetheart, you know that I’ve gotta get you back to Larkhall.

What?!

Nikki: What?!

Helen: Now, before anyone notices that you’ve gone.

Nikki: Don’t be stupid. I can’t go back there till the morning shift. Think about it.

Helen: [sighing] S—.

Helen leans away from Nikki, toward the nightstand, presumably to get out of bed. Nikki pulls her back. She just wants to spoon. But all Helen wants to do is hide a piece of paper she’s just spotted on the nightstand.

Nikki: What’s that?

Helen: [sighing] It’s a letter from your solicitor. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s bad news.

Nikki: [sobbing]

Let’s see: What have we learned? First, Helen prefers to use the pet name “sweetheart,” especially while in bed. Second, Nikki gets all weepy after sex (in case you needed more proof that she’s a lesbian). Third, this is all going way too fast! Can we please see the scene between the shirt-rending and the bed? (Yes, you can.)

Last house on the left — Dominic and Di are sharing a cab. Di gets out first; the cab waits while she fumbles for her keys. Yes, that old trick. Dominic gets out to see if he can help. Of course, then she finds her keys. But what a perfect time to invite him in for a nightcap! She does, and he almost stays. But then Di’s mother calls to her and Dom decides it’s best not to disturb her.

It all takes a turn for the creepy and the Lifetime-meets-V.C.-Andrews as Di goes in, ignores her incontinent mother and head rights for the shrine to Dominic in her bedroom. So that’s where those passport photos went.

Throwing good wine after bad rubbish — In her cell, Yvonne dips into her pants to get a cup of wine. I typed that, and then I deleted it and retyped it in disbelief, but it’s still exactly what she’s doing. Too. Many. Jokes.

But this is a bitter cup: As she glances over to the bulletin board and sees her picture of Charlie, a rage bubbles up inside her. She throws the cup of wine at the photo, losing both the chance to get buzzed and the chance to sleep on a dry bunk.

Reunited — Crystal is back at the hostel. But Josh is there too — Denny called him and told him where to find his ladyfriend. At first Josh is unsure, but when he sees that Crystal is still wearing his ring around her neck, he grins in his cute boyish way and takes her home with him. Aw, that’s sweet. Good for you, Crosh. Or is it Jystal? Either way, can we get back to the couple I really care about?

To your health — Nikki’s doing shots of vodka as she and Helen sit on the couch in their robes. I had no idea what sort of liquor you’re supposed to serve with bad news from solicitors. Helen’s a much better host than I will ever be.

Helen: It’s not the end of the line. It’s not! Claire said she’s gonna go right ahead and apply to the Criminal Cases Review Commission. She’s gonna come in and see you about it next week. You’re not gonna give up!

Nikki: You kidding? No way.

Helen: [sighing with relief] Well, good, because neither am I. [sighing again] I love you, Nikki.

They lean back on the couch as if to cuddle. But cuddling is never just cuddling with these two.

Nikki: Enough to give everything up for me?

Helen: Yeah. You know how much.

Nikki: I’m not going back to that prison, Helen. Not after this. This is my last chance now. If I go back, I just know I’m gonna be there till I’m bloody 50. You won’t wait that long for me.

Helen: Nikki, it won’t be that long. If the CCRC takes up your case —

Nikki: If. If, if. What if they don’t? Do you really think I could handle that? ‘Cause I’m telling you, after what we’ve been through this week, I just know I’d go totally mad. We’ve gotta run for it. Tonight.

Helen: Nikki. You are talking absolute crap!

Nikki: I can get a passport. Trish can help me.

Helen: We’re not going on the run.

Nikki: [thinking] No. No, of course, that’d be stupid. I’ll go on ahead. I can be out of the country before they even miss me. San Francisco. And then when the heat’s off, you can come out and join me.

Helen: Nikki —

Nikki: If you love me enough.

If she what? Let me just take this opportunity to tell everyone in the world that I don’t love you enough to go on the lam for you. Or if I do, you should at least ask me nicely to do so, instead of expecting me to just whip out a hobo stick and hurtle myself into the nearest boxcar.

Helen: What kind of life would that be for us?

Nikki: Better than if we wait for bloody justice. It’s true, Helen, you know it is.

Helen: [getting up] No. No, no, no it isn’t! Don’t even think about this. This is not an option.

Nikki: It’s the only one we’ve got. Say you’ll do it.

Helen: I can’t. I can’t.

Nikki: Yes, you can. You will. I’ve gotta go now.

She asks Helen to call her a cab. Helen — the idealistic prison service professional, the best governor G wing’s ever had and a believer in the justice system despite everything she’s seen — continues to protest, but she’s realizing there’s no way to talk Nikki out of this. Also, it’s so hard to stand by your principles when you’re aroused.

Nikki: Darling, please. Please trust me.

Helen: [flatly] OK. Go get ready.

But that was sort of a “Yes, dear” line — as soon as Nikki goes into the bedroom to get dressed, Helen picks up the phone and dials 999 (the equivalent of 911 in the U.S.). Her face is threatening to crumble into tears, but she holds herself together.

Hang up! Hang up now and take that robe off! I mean, uh, get dressed. Something, anything: Just hang up.

A different sort of escape — The party’s over; Larkhall is quiet. Fenner pays a visit to Shell’s cell and finds her all tarted up. He closes the cell door and pushes her to the bunk, kissing her like a daub of spackle kisses a wall. As he puts on his ineffectual moves, Shell reaches under her bunk and pulls out a broken bottle.

Now I know why they call these things “cliffhangers.” Between this and Helen’s fateful phone call, I’m holding on for dear life!

NEXT TIME ON BAD GIRLS: We’ll have to wait till the end of August to find out — Logo’s taking a little break, and therefore so am I. Try not to go crazy with suspense!

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