It’s the morning after the night before, and the camera pans down lustfully on Frankie’s naked body as she lies in bed alone. Something tells us Jay probably isn’t in the kitchen whipping them up some scrambled eggs.
She picks up her own camera looking for some visual reminders of last night’s drunken debauchery and is presented with Shave-gate, Jay and general shame. She lingers over a close-up picture of herself – all running mascara and smeared lipstick and quite rightly decides that it’s not one for Facebook. Instead, she deletes it and leaps out of bed. Frankie has what we call in Britain on a morning like this, “The Fear.”
DS Murray admirers will right now be screen-grabbing like their very lives depend on it as the hot cop writhes around in bed, semi-naked, while Cat pleasures her downstairs.
The climax is so intense for the hot cop that when Cat comes back up for air, the DS is overridden with emotion.
DS Murray: I think I love you… I’m sorry.
Cat: [pause] No, I like it.
DS Murray: You just like it or… [goes to touch Cat’s whiskers, ahem]
Cat: I need to go to work.
Lee: Oh no, she didn’t say it back. Sarah, she didn’t say it back! *head in hands*
Sarah: This is not a great sign for Team Sam. *paces the room*
Understandably, DS Murray’s face has a look of worried rejection all over it.