It announced that Hayley Cropper (nee Harold Patterson) was departing, escaping her cancer by drinking a frothy cocktail of drugs - the climax to a storyline supported by an organisation advocating the controversial issue of terminally ill patients' right to die.
No, not Granada Television, although there's no doubt the demise of soap's first suicidal trans-sexual guaranteed a ratings bonanza and endless nominations for awards.
A desolate Roy Cropper faces life without Hayley
- as do we all - after she drank a cocktail of drugs to escape her
terminal cancer, dying as she lived, looking like a cross between Joan
of Arc and Peter Beardsley
To say it was a ‘two hankie’ drama would be an understatement. It was a two box of tissue occasion.
It was impossible not to be moved. The awfulness of the situation was tangible, despite the fact we didn’t know her, not to mention that she wasn’t real. But after 16 years of watching her toddling round the Street in her red anorak as part of Weatherfield’s most popular couple, that didn’t seem to matter.
If
it had been Walford, EastEnders would probably have gone for a
double-hander, clearing the whole episode to allow the actors an even
greater stage as it tends to for such a huge, heavy, event.It was impossible not to be moved. The awfulness of the situation was tangible, despite the fact we didn’t know her, not to mention that she wasn’t real. But after 16 years of watching her toddling round the Street in her red anorak as part of Weatherfield’s most popular couple, that didn’t seem to matter.
Coronation Street is less obvious though and Julie Hesmondhalgh as Hayley and David Neilson as Roy in particular have always displayed their terrific talent through more meticulous detail.
After the last of a frankly interminable number
of debates about the merits of terminally ill patients' right to die,
Roy can only watch on as Hayley (nee Harold) knocked back what looked
like a suspiciously fizzy glass of lemon squash
Besides this would have made the misery even more relentless, even though the occasional glimpses of the famous Corrie humour seemed misplaced in such dour circumstances.
‘Rita caught me by the card rack doing a bit of air guitar!’ Dennis winked to Sue Johnston, who will always be Sheila Grant to most of us – or at the very least just Sexy Cindy’s mum.
For once quirky sub-plots such as Sally’s missing watch or whether Our Chesney would let Sinead Tinker move her soap pan in to his cupboards, were just irritating.
The Way We Were: at the time of death, it was
not yet known whether Hayley would be buried in her famous red anorak -
the one that recalled the terrifying dwarf in Don't Look Now
A grim night began with the opening shot of Hayley looking up in classic side profile, looking like the bastard offspring of Joan Of Arc and Peter Beardsley. Well she wasn't the nation's favourite eccentric for nothing...
She staggered downstairs in her lilac cardie to receive visitors and (unwittingly) pay their last respects.
'Are you OK ?' asked Beth. 'Is she OK?' Anna asked. 'Are you alright?' fretted Norris.
The answer was basically 'no, not really. I wasn't.' Neither were Roy and Hayley.
Hayley's face was not so much drained of colour as grey and stagnant while Roy looked as if he was desperate for the toilet or had seen a ghost, which is how he always looks. Any hopes of seeing the poor soul smiling have now been dashed for several years.
A tearful Roy Cropper finally accepts that his
attempts to persuade Hayley to spurn the idea of suicide and let nature
take its course are as doomed to failure as his wish to bring back steam
trains
As is traditional in soap, it wasn't long before their friends' every utterance took on a dark, not very subtle, significance.
'We'll bring Ruby to see you another time, when she's less snuffly,' promised Tyrone cheerfully, while Fiz enthused: 'I thought I might start taking Hayley something every day like flowers or a puzzle book.'
Oh dear.
Anna offered to iron Hayley's blouses - only to be told there was, obviously, no need. And for reasons of her own, Rita announced: 'tomorrow, I'm thinking of doing a bit of baking' - which makes a change from her usual hobby - drinking in t'Rovers - and cheerfully said: 'any requests?'
That'll be a 'no' then.
Hayley becomes slightly desperate to die and end
their depressing ethical discussions even though they were worthy of
the Oxford Debating Society
Things started to go quickly downhill when Ty mentioned the toy farm Hayles had bought (for his kids not for him, although the result was probably much the same) and she fell apart and was steered upstairs by Roy, telling him: 'I can only manage if I shut things out of my mind. I caught myself wondering who they'll turn out to be.' She chastised herself (as was her wont): 'I wanted to be braver than that.'
We all needed to be brave from there on in as the second episode of the night arrived, Hayley's face became more and more sallow and her death closed in. Roy presented her with a gift - a pump wagon, not for his precious collection of railway memorabilia but to commemorate what he sobbed was 'the happiest day of my life.' (Why a pump wagon ? It's a long story.)
Probably the most unusual character in the
history of soap, Hayley poses in her wedding dress with Fiz (left) and
the much-missed Becky McDonald as they operate a pump trolley chasing a
steam train. It's a long story...
Roy and Hayley have debated the issue of patients' right to die or assisted suicide for some weeks now and, if you were one of those Coronation Street fans who prefer it not to take on such desolate subjects, it wasn't just Hayley who will have welcomed death as a merciful release.
There was time for just one more exchange expressing their respective positions though.
'I'm sorry that this is so hard,' sympathised Hayley. 'If I could make it easier, I would. We've got to remember most folk don't get to glimpse the happiness that we have. Day after day after day...'
'But we could start today again,' Roy protested, in emotional agony, advocating having one more day where their preparations were perfect. 'Do today better tomorrow !' he urged sounding like an ad campaign for Nike.
'We did the best we could,' insisted Hayley typically practical. 'A bit right, a bit wrong. Human. Just us.'
'There’s still joy to be had ! Why turn your back on it?!’ Roy cried.
But she was adamant: ‘I’ve said my goodbyes. I’ve made my peace. I won't pretend I’m not afraid but I’m ready.’
‘I’m not,‘ he said sadly, like a boy.
Hayley's driving of the Croppers' precious Morris Minor was, like everything else to do with her, eccentric to say the least
Roy remained the doubtful pragmatist and Hayley the romantic.
‘We mustn’t be sad. We should be proud !' she enthused. 'We were a team you and me, and we took on all-comers. If there is a bloke with a clipboard, I can look him in the eye.’
‘Were he to exist, I very much doubt he’d be able to do the same.'
It was as articulate as a debate at the Oxford Union - or more.
When he quivered: 'I don’t know how I’ll go on,’ Hayley only became more fervent.
‘As long as you're alive, so am I. You’ll be my eyes and my ears and my heart for years to come !'
When she finally broke down, and tutted: 'look what you’ve done. I swore I wasn’t going to cry,’ we all knew how she felt.
Never exactly prone to merriment, now that he's lost his precious Hayley, poor Roy may never smile again
With that, Roy put on some music Vaughan Williams' The Lark Ascending - never a good sign.
‘Smashing,' Hayley smiled, sounding like a Radio One DJ from the 70s. When she warned him not to incriminate himself by touching her drink, or her medication, we knew the end was nigh.
They sat on the bed, legs outstretched, fully dressed, which didn't seem the most comfortable or romantic way to go.
'This is it then,' she said. 'I didn’t know how I would feel.’
'Please don’t be afraid,' he told her, with typical old-fashioned gallantry.
Her next speech was positively (or negatively) heart-breaking.
'Lying here with you, how could I be? I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’m so glad I knew you Roy. Thank you. I’ve been so lucky. I’d not swap the few years we’ve had for a thousand of anyone else's. Because I know what it is to be loved, truly loved. I love you. Always have, always will. I’m so sorry I have to go.’
A nation sobbed as, unbeknownst to Fiz, Hayley said goodbye for the last time
They had a cry and a cuddle and before Roy could stop her, she suddenly knocked back what looked like a glass of suspiciously bubbly glass of lemon squash.
When Anna and Carla burst in on them, Hayley was lying in Roy's arms, her face as white as a sheet and lips already with a tint of blue - in case anyone was in any doubt that she had popped what in her case would undoubtedly be her clogs.
Moments earlier, the camera had panned across the room, tracking their possessions, or rather, Roy's, now.
A photo from their wedding day, a picture of his mother Sylvia, a model steam train and its pump wagon, and finally his best shirt, the one Hayley had just ironed - for the funeral.
As for Hayley herself, presumably, hopefully, she will be buried in her red anorak.
We will literally never see her like again.
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