So it was Bobby Beale whodunnit. Killed Lucy, that is. After 10 months of suspense, it was revealed that the Walford murderer wasn’t shifty Jane, crumple-faced Ian, or any of the deceased’s frenemies (Lauren, Abi, Whitney, anyone who’d ever seen her pretty but miserable face). Oh no, it was baby-faced step-brother Bobby. His weapon of choice? A music box, over the head.
The joy of EastEnders’ live week wasn’t the discovery that an 11-year-old Minecraft addict killed Lucy, but in the sense of occasion that the unveiling brought. Come the doof doofs, it looked as if Jane had indulged in a spot of stepdaughter-bludgeoning, but a later flashback episode showed the full circumstances of Lucy’s death spiral on that fateful Good Friday, which culminated in Bobby standing over her body like a homicidal Iggle Piggle.
If the discovery of Lucy Beale’s killer seemed a cop-out to some, there was plenty of drama to shock and amuse elsewhere, not least when Tanya Branning mistook Ian Beale for the actor playing him. The look on Tanya’s face at that “How’s Adam?” moment was priceless. Did it matter? Did it heck. Everyone acted their slingbacks off.
Resplendent in a tight spangly dress, Kim Fox went into noisy labour in the Queen Vic toilets. “Takes me back,” said Sonya, who’d also given birth within the hallowed pub walls. It transpired that baby Pearl had been conceived in a cruise ship hot tub. Talking of sophistication, Kat and her ambitious cleavage got into a cake fight and everyone forgot that Jane and Ian were supposed to be having some kind of wedding reception. Even Kathy Beale showed her face and she’s been dead for nearly 10 years. Down in the beer cellar, things took a sinister turn when Dean(o) turned up with a beard and a petrol bomb. He was last seen lying among the barrels with Mick Carter’s foot on his throat.
Which was a shame. Not for Dean. He deserved everything he got. For Mick. The perky landlord was on a high, having just got his chance to deliver the immortal line “Get outta my pub” to Barbara Actual Windsor, so why would he want to go and ruin things by being banged up for murder? Mick laid low in the aftermath, prowling around with his eyes half-closed. Nance’s many attempts at asking him whether Dean really did walk out of that pub cellar alive were met with a “You’re doing my swede in.” At least Linda maintained the “faaaa-mily stick together” act, turning a blind eye to the fact that her knight in shining waistcoat had just tried to murder her rapist.
By camp contrast, Coronation Street offered a showdown between Tracy and Liz, with Tony as the meat in their freshly toasted sandwich of sass. Hell, everyone was fighting over Tony. Dopey Jason battered him for getting too close to Eva after the ever-scheming Todd planted the seed that they were having a bunk-up. It’s OK, though, because hapless hero Jason decided to make amends with his horrified girlfriend by getting down on one knee in public. “Did you honestly just accuse me of having it away with your dad and then propose a few hours later?” said an incredulous Eva, chucking a glass of wine in his face. Pure romance.
Tony escaped the scandal to do another dodgy deal with Tracy in their mystery wagon. When that van full of knock-off got pulled over by the police, Tracy bigged-up her part as the scarlet woman, scorned by her lover’s text from Liz. “You should see the state of her,” she pouted, all big eyes and flirty red lips. “If you looked up ‘tart’ in the English dictionary…” Her tale of romantic woe was both a perfect decoy (the rozzers sent her and Tony on their way), and a chance to air her true feelings.
Of course, no one crosses Liz and she made her feelings clear when Tracy strutted into the Rovers. “Look at the state of her,” she sneered. “She should be stood in t’docks in Marseilles.” One angry exchange later and Tracy was barred. Liz is so fierce she doesn’t even need to say: “Get outta my pub.”
Emmerdale is a dangerous place to be a glossy-haired woman. While Alicia was busy being the victim of a shocking pre-watershed assault by Lachlan, the village was still in mourning for Katie. The poor blonde bombshell fell to her death before she even had a chance to gatecrash Robert’s wedding and announce his affair with Aaron.
At least Katie had led a colourful life. The giddy-knickered cockroach had survived a car crash, a hostage situation and that time she spent days trapped down a mineshaft with nowt to eat except her hair. She wasn’t even cold before supposed best mate Vanessa was sipping tea from her My Little Pony mug. It was left to Bernice to pay the ultimate tribute at her funeral. In all her tactful glory, Bernice skipped the wake at the Woolpack in favour of drunk makeovers back at the salon, dragging perma-bored vicar Harriet with her. “I’ve got a bottle of Taboo under the cash register,” she slurred. “Come on, it’s what Katie would have wanted.” A tenner says Bernice uses that excuse when she offers Andy a grief grope any day now. Dim the lights and pour the Taboo, love.
