Sam is deep in the vortex of her own information age, complicated by cameras and suspicion.
She watches several recordings from … what, official city surveillance cameras? I don’t quite understand why she has all this perfectly precise, crystal-clear footage of herself and Cat. I guess this is all part of Britain’s “surveillance society,” but it seems kind of extreme. Hey, Sam, if you really have access to everything, can you take five minutes to see where Tamsin Greig is? I miss Friday Night Dinner and would like a glimpse of her.
Sam watches as Cat ducks into that building where she didn’t have an appointment, then strolls back out once Sam is out of sight. And so it begins.
In another whiplash-inducing mood shift, we move to a romantically lit place where Ed, Nora, and Nora’s friend Meg are greeting a trepidatious Tess.
Meg looks and sounds like a cross between Kristin Chenoweth, toxic Tonya from The L Word, and Bubble from Ab Fab. Oh, plus everything that is not Tess’s type.
Ed and Nora jump up to go have a cigarette. Tess asks Meg how she knows Nora; Meg is a makeup artist on Cardiac Care, one of the many shows Nora’s been on. Tess says “wow” and the conversation immediately stalls.
Back at the only slightly less awkward Minus 21 party, Sadie inserts herself into a conversation. She’s disarmingly direct.
Partygoer: I take it you don’t work here, then?
Sadie: I don’t work anywhere. That’s why I’m here. Got any jobs going?
The guy expresses slight interest in Sadie’s property background. She reaches into her bag to give him her card … and puts her hand right into in some of the gooey cheese she nicked earlier. She excuses herself and heads for the ladies’ room.
In the bathroom, a curious onlooker asks Sadie about her cheese fingers.
Woman: What happened there?
Sadie: Social annihilation by cheese.
Sadie, I think you should write a column all about the ways you continually get yourself into, and back out of, sticky situations. Actually, I didn’t mean “sticky” literally, but when you think about it: mud, condiments, cheese — there’s definitely a pattern here.
Sadie: Do you work here too?
Woman: Oh, no, I run an art gallery over in the Merchant City. It’s called The Space.
Sadie: (offering her hand) Sadie Anderson.
Woman: Oh, cool. Jo Glass. I’m Lauren’s partner.
Of COURSE you are! And I like you already, as does Sadie, which is going to make this even more problematic all around.
I’m sure Jo’s name isn’t actually a nod to George Glass, but I’m going to pretend it is. Also, I know I’m not the first person to ask this, but why are there so many lesbian art gallery owners/directors/whatevers in TV and film?
Sam is still watching surveillance video. Her worst fear becomes reality when she finds a recording of Cat going into Frankie’s flat shortly after Cat and Sam went their separate ways that fateful day.
Ryder shows up and wonders what Sam’s doing. Sam lies and says she’s trying to dig up something about Lexy’s possible stalker, but Ryder looks at the video and knows exactly what’s up. He warns her that she could get suspended.
Ryder: I never saw this, OK?
You’re a good guy, Ryder. Would you mind swinging by the hospital and teaching Declan how not to be an ass?
Speaking of Lexy’s possible stalker, Lexy is sitting alone, eating dinner and staring at that note that says “I KNOW.” I have so many questions about this: why are you carrying that note around? Why didn’t Sam take it in for handwriting analysis or a DNA test or something? And why won’t you give me the recipe for whatever you made with all those peppers?
Lexy writes STALKER DIARY on a notebook. I feel like this could be used against you at some point, Lexy; you should have made it clear that you’re the stalkee rather than someone who’s perfecting her own creepy craft.
Back in the candid camera viewing room, Sam watches Cat put on (and then take off) the bracelet Frankie gave her for her birthday. Sam nods, just barely; just enough to acknowledge this new layer of heartbreak that will fester and flare and perpetuate the grief.
This is way too painful. Please don’t watch a video of the crash next, OK?
Back at the bar, Tess orders another bottle of wine. I’m not sure what sort of wine pairs well with delusions of grandeur:
Meg: Course, I meet a lot of actresses in my line of work. And most of them fall for me. Oh, they don’t say anything, but I can always tell by the way they look at me. A lot of straight girls want to work out their lesbian fantasies on a girl like me.
Tess says flatly, “Oh, that’s lovely.” I mean, I guess what else do you say to something like that?
Meg: We’re a rare breed, you and me. Pretty dykes.
Tess doesn’t really agree that it’s a “bit of a dogs’ home” out there. Again, could we please get Fin back for a minute? She brought a lot of things to the table, and this particular table definitely needs some enhancing.
Meg expresses sympathy for Tess, who obviously doesn’t get to interact with the “same caliber of star” that Meg does. Meg offers to get Tess a meeting for Cardiac Care.
Tess: Oh, that’s … that’s sweet, but ‘m pretty busy with Chekhov at the moment, so …
That is the actual caption. But she’s joking, sort of: “Cardiac Care is today’s Shakespeare.” All Tess can do is drink some more wine.
At the Minus 21 party, Lauren sees Sadie. And her partner. Walking together and talking. Do Scots use the word plotz?
Sadie: This must be a nice surprise for you, Lauren.
I wonder if we’ll ever find out how Sadie got to be so … so Sadie.
That second bottle of wine (or maybe third or fourth?) is nearly gone. Meg is still rambling; Tess is inspecting the candle. Meg wonders where Ed and Nora have gone, prompting Tess to leap up and go look for them.
But she finds them in flagrante. Run away, Tess!
Tess returns to the table, where Meg has pulled Tess’s bar stool closer to her own. Meg goes right in for the kiss. Tess pulls away, pauses, considers, and decides there are worse ways to end the evening.
Tess takes Meg back to The Flat of Ill-Advised Sexual Encounters. They start to have some of the most awkward sex since Dana and Jenny.
Meg: Say, “Stand and deliver!”
Tess: Wh … what?
Meg: I’m a beautiful princess, and you’re a fearless highwaywoman holding up my carriage.
Uh. Wow! Did you two stop for dinner in Crazy Town on the way back to the flat?
Tess shrugs and, because it’s not really more difficult or less natural than Chekhov, delivers the line. They make out some more and it starts to seem like it might actually be not the most horrible thing ever, until …
Meg: Now rub my royal lady mound!
I don’t think even Sam or Lexy or Frankie could make that sound sexy. Tess decides she’s not really up for a game of The Cracked Princess Bride, so she pretends she’s suddenly feeling really ill.
Meg is concerned, but also suspicious.
Tess: I’ve got a real bad headache. My leg … hurts.
Meg: Your leg?
Well, who knows what sorts of injuries highwaywomen are prone to? I love it when Fiona cute-as-a-Button gets to show off her advanced understanding of comic timing.
Tess commits to the ruse and says there’s a “sort of tingling” in her lower thigh. Meg offers to call NHS 24, but Tess tells her not to worry: “my housemate’s a doctor.” Which of course sends Meg right to Lexy’s door.
Meg: Is there a doctor in the house?
Lexy: Hang on. (answering the door) Everything all right?
Meg: No. It’s Tess. She’s really ill.
Lexy does her doctorly thing, asking questions about where it hurts and what Tess ate. Tess’s crazily expressive eyes help Lexy realize what’s really going on.
Well, the eyes, plus the fact that Tess mouths “Help me” while Meg’s not looking.
Lexy starts to examine Tess. As Tess talks about her headache, Meg mentions the leg thing.
Tess: Yeah … it’s like a … (trying not to giggle) t … tingling in my upper thigh.
Meg: You said lower before.
Tess: It’s moved.
Lexy: Uh, a tingling in your upper thigh. That’s quite an unusual presentation.
This is interesting: Lexy has found herself in inappropriate-laughing circumstances with both Sam and Tess in this episode. With Sam, it was charged and electric; with Tess, it’s just fun and friendly. Except I’m not sure Tess knows that.
Lexy is concerned that Tess might have “bacterial hydritis” and tells Meg to go home. Meg starts to protest, wanting to stand by her highwaywoman, but Lexy warns Meg that bacterial hydritis is very infectious. So the princess gets the heck outta Dodge.
As soon as the door closes, Tess and Lexy collapse on the bed with laughter. Again, not really the sort of collapsing on the bed that Tess was hoping for, but so excellent anyway.
I watched that scene three times! Because it was fizzy and entertaining and well-acted and well-written and hilarious and not fraught in any way, and that’s one of the things Lip Service does very well. Not the only thing. But one of the best things.
Back at the Minus 21 party, Lauren wants to introduce Sadie to some “useful people.” Which means “people who are not near my partner because I really want you to get away from her.” But it’s too late.
Sadie: There’s no need. I’ve already landed myself a plum job.
Jo: She’s coming to work for me.
Lauren: No!
Jo thinks Lauren is saying “No” in the sense of “No, really?” or “You don’t say,” but Lauren’s saying it in the sense of “Fucking hell no this cannot be happening.”
Sadie, you’re such a shit-stirrer! I guess we’ll be seeing some gallery sex then. But between whom and whom, exactly?
Lauren excuses herself to go pick up some “bits and pieces” from the office. Sadie is close on her heels.
Lauren: What the fuck are you doing?
Sadie: I told you, I need a job.
Lauren: With my wife? Are you fucking mad?
Sadie: No. Just very practical.
Oh, hey, I just realized Lauren uses the word “wife,” while Jo uses the word “partner.” But right now, nobody’s using any words at all because Sadie and Lauren are making out again.
Back at the flat of misfortune, a very distraught Sam reaches out to Lexy. She’s been crying.
Sam: It was true. Cat was fucking Frankie.
Lexy: What?
Sam: They were meeting here too.
Sam says Cat could at least have told her. And I couldn’t agree more. Actually, maybe I don’t mean that; I wish Sam had never found out at all, because she’s really wrecked. She starts shouting about “Frankie, that useless bitch,” so Lexy tries to just hug her and comfort her. But there’s not much comforting Sam right now.
Sam: I haven’t changed the sheets. I’ve done everything else. I’ve packed up her clothes.
And then Sam is too far gone, so she goes too far.
It’s all just pain, pain, pain, and revenge, and grief, and anguish. And Lexy knows it, so she tries to resist, but Sam keeps pushing. Eventually Lexy pushes Sam away completely.
Lexy: Don’t! I don’t want it. Not like this, OK?
Sam can only whisper an apology and leave.
What an eventful episode! But not a heavy one overall; a pretty well-balanced diet of drama and mystery and hilarity and sex. It might turn out to be one of my favorite episodes ever. It’s like someone said to the show, “Stand and deliver!” And it did!
