Decided to fit chapter twelve at the Greater Manchester official Ford Specialist Dealer in which DCI Gene Hunt gets his hands on a brand new Ford Cortina Mk3 Two Thousand Executive or Granada Mk1 Ghia, after a few faithful years with the metallic pink GXL he had since late 1971 or early 1972 from release date. In later post 1980, he changes this for a futuristic Ford Granada Mk2 Ghia X to mark his transfer into London's Metropolitan Police CID with his faithful colleagues - except DS Ray Carling.
Enjoy!
July 1976 - DCI Gene Hunt looked in his rear view mirror to see Gary sitting in the rear car seat area, safely encapsulated into his Britax child seat peering out of the window. Gary became a Ford fan just like his nearly thirty three year old father. They were currently on their way to the Greater Manchester official Ford Specialist Dealer for an appointment to collect the newest one, where he passes an old faithful to the Detective Inspector to have - at least it went to a good home where it would stay in nearly new condition, well looked after, history known and Sam often inherited passé top of the tree Fords of Gene's.
No babysitter wanted Gary Hunt on their books stating their parents would go mad at them for looking after a child with mental deficiencies as the teenage girls so bluntly put it. DCI Gene Hunt was doubtful as to how this experience will happen. He made Gary promise to be good although there was no telling as to what would happen with his condition of Autism Spectrum Disorder.
As soon as they got to the Ford Specialist Dealer, DI Sam Tyler already arrived to collect Gene's old faithful 1971-1972 Ford Cortina MkIII GXL in metallic pink, Gene tossed him the keys "Take it from me. She runs like a dream and I know you'll look after her well," annotated the Detective Chief Inspector "The GXL's yours now, Sammy boy." Gene was managing to take on the responsibilities of quietening a young child while simultaneously reading a Ford Cars brochure on the Ford Cortina Mk3 2000 Executive and Granada Mk1 Ghia; he wanted one in either deep metallic purple, sebring red, fizzy lemon yellow, metallic blue, stratos silver, metallic gold or diamond white.
DCI Gene Hunt was balancing Gary on his hip as they went to view the different Fords "Big cars," he babbled looking towards a Ford Granada MkI Ghia with Ronal alloys. Gene is planting a kiss on little Gary's tiny cheek. Unfortunately Gary wriggled to get down as he wanted to view all the blue oval's cars "Remember, you promised to be a good boy for Daddy. Are you going to keep your promise to me?" he gently reminded as Gary giggled and grinned for random reasons.
"Ok, good boy!" Gene praised in that little kid voice "And remember to be respectful," he added in a serious adult tone.
"Yes, Dada!" he replied back running to the coloured play table full of Lego.
"I won't take too long, I'm thinking Cortina MkIII 2000 E or Granada Ghia MkI."
DCI Gene Hunt walked to the front reception desk seeing a Mr. Flantley who took his enquires for a Ford Cortina MkIII Executive or Granada MkI Ghia, he failed to notice the women customers at the indoor sales forecourt gossiping about his situation as a single parent and Gary's autism "That's the one I was telling you about; divorced copper Eugene Hunt." The other glanced to get a good view "How does he even know if that retarded kid's his? Mental age of a five or six year old toddler, the size of a four year old at nearly 11; he ought to be ashamed of his sins!" After the nattering women passed, Gene glanced down at his son as little Gary looked up to him: how could he not be Gene's - they were DNA wise practically the image of Philip Glenister for goodness sake - blue eyes, sandy blonde hair and a skinny little frame that would eventually turn broad and tall when hitting puberty.
If only people knew about Gene Hunt's harsh Lancashire based childhood since his birth in late 1943 or early 1944, the beatings he and Stuart got from their alcoholic father who wouldn't think twice of being handy with his fists; usually involving their mother through the scuffles. Now that was just totally plain nasty, bang out of order and insane of those women to speculate rumours on something of a very personal but private nature. One had history for cupping her mouth to speak to a friend covertly nodding to the Hunts.
DCI Gene Hunt inwardly sighed in annoyance wearing his signature pout; there was no choice but leave his son unattended for the first time in a place where he regularly got his top of the line Ford executive saloon cars from, but this was entirely new to Gary Hunt as late 1971 or early 1972 was entirely a different story altogether - four or five years previously. Gary never reacted well to new situations. He walked the child to the small area of soft garish brown chairs where a vending machine full of crisps and chocolate, a coffee maker with plates of biscuits and jammy doughnuts set on a small table with outdated Ford brochures, magazines, newspapers and tatty colouring books. DCI Gene Hunt sat Gary down with an expectation "Daddy's going to be right back, ok? You sit 'ere being a good boy like we've talked about and wait here for Daddy. Don't leave this spot, understand? And don't even try to get off the chair without a grown up's help. Be a good baby." Gary let out a happy babble in response, Gene could only hope he meant agreeing to the terms and conditions set out.
In all actuality choosing another top range Ford saloon was serious business.
Fifteen minutes in (even though DCI Gene Hunt would pick his first choice of the Cortina Executive or Granada Ghia, as their virtues were explained by the saleswoman), Gary began to panic. It wasn't his fault - he had zero perception of elapsed time. First came the fidgeting, he nervously bounced on the chair suite. Then his breathing quickened; why wasn't his father coming back to get him? Next, the irrational fears. What if Daddy got hurt or kidnapped like the news reporters on the BBC Six O' Clock news talked about? Followed by the tears. Gary knew he had to remain silent - he promised his Detective Chief Inspector father, after all; but he was so agitated and scared; the tears kept flowing like a tap in which he started to shake and tremble in fear. And the grand finale; Gary Hunt felt so lonely and nervous that he was forced into an autistic meltdown calamity complete with screaming, crying, wailing, chucking things, throwing himself on to the floor of Greater Manchester Ford at the indoor sales forecourt. Several Ford salespeople dashed over to see what the problem was. "Dada!" Gary shrieked, holding his little hands out as if asking for his copper father to appear and just hug him. "Dada, make come back!" mispronouncing mate "Please, dada!" he begged went to smashing the plate of jammy doughnuts, crumbled biscuits into billions of crumbs, beating the new Ford Fiesta MkI super mini on display with his hands and feet. The final straw was even daring do, swatting the coffeemaker with his hand.
Except it was filled up with boiling hot water.
Gary Hunt absolutely shrieked in pain. A tall man lifted Gary up by the underneath of his arms, he carried the boy away from customers and salespeople, having grabbed a few ice cubes from the staff room's all in one fridge and freezer unit. He held the ice to the injured, scalding hand, speaking gently to Gary "Daddy's on his way," he said reassuringly. "I went back and got Daddy, he's coming." Sure enough, DCI Gene Hunt and Mr. Flantley hurried up into the customers lounge wide eyed and Gene felt anxious. "Daaaaaaadaaaaa," Gary wailed fitfully. He held out his uninjured hand towards his police officer father.
Gene ran to him, scooping Gary into a hug and holding him as close as possible. "What are yer doing?" the DCI asked "Why did yer make this mess?"
"That retard child needs a good smacking, if that 'thing' was mine it would be locked up in an institution!" one of the women from earlier shouted.
"And you need a parenting class and keeping your monster at home!" another voice yelled.
"Don't you dare talk to my Guv like that! And how dare you shame this innocent little boy for something he can't control!" This was a voice sounding remarkably similar to John Simm who hoped he wouldn't get into trouble for defending his beloved boss.
It was Detective Inspector Sam Tyler of course!
The cleaner woman scoffed pointing to the floor; where exhibits of doughnuts, biscuits, coffee and broken china, splintered glass with a large coffee stain invading the carpet. "Shouldn't blame him? Look at what he did to the Ford customer lounge! He's much too old to be throwing a temper tantrum!" she hollered. Sam stepped in front of her starting negotiations like he heroically did; three years ago at the Manchester Gazette printing offices when a crazed former World War II soldier held the newspaper editors hostage with the CID team in 1973; Gene was particularly interested especially as it involved his other best friend Jackie Queen.
DI Sam Tyler defended and backed his boss to the hilt "This boy," he began seriously "has a spectrum disorder, it's something he was born with. It's still uncommon and rare that doctors are still conducting research on it, using children like Gary and others as their testing subjects. Gary has Autism Spectrum Disorder. It's an emerging concern for parents and caregivers." trying to get Joe Public to learn the biological reasons behind behaviour "Imagine having to do everything yourself - having an autistic child to care for, working as a high ranking police officer and running a household. Could you do it? No because you are ignorant like a colleague of ours DS Ray Carling when it comes to understanding non average people. I don't think you have any idea of what DCI Gene Hunt goes through with his child, every single day. My youngest niece at six has it; it's a battle to get her dressed in the morning. Can you imagine that - a six year old toddler operating four years younger; where everything is a battleground." he continued hoping the public understood the educational message "Please, before you go blaming the parent or child and sticking on the refrigerator mothers theory: put yourselves in their shoes. Or better yet don't comment unless you've got something nice to add to their predicament."
Gary looked back over his father's shoulder as Gene and Sam left with a new car in hand for the Guv, waving his bandaged little hand "Gary, sooooory!" he wept continuously.
DI Sam Tyler followed DCI Gene Hunt to their Fords each; to say it was awkward was an understatement. Sam shrugged to his Guv "I don't like ignorant people who judge a tantrum by its cover; they're ignorant and foolish people, I didn't like them judging your situation Gene. Sometimes you have to stand and speak up for what's right." Sam answered.
"I've always been this way with Gary, since nobody gives a shit on special kiddies like me boy!" intoned Gene as he picks up his brand new Ford on N registration plates.
"Hope your baby's hand gets better soon." DI Sam Tyler wished for little Gary Hunt to get well soon.
Gene watched Sam, one of the esteemed colleagues get into his inherited 1971-1972 Ford Cortina MkIII in that familiar metallic pink - why did so many occurrences happen today? It had to be for a specific reason. The Ford salesperson meeting, Gary's meltdown, nosy women gossiping and Sam Tyler protecting his Guv's little boy from the angry public witch hunting mob.
Gary Hunt whimpered from the back seat of the new Ford "Gary, thought Dada left like Mummy..." This stung harder than anything else that happened so far today inside the Ford of Greater Manchester Specialist Dealer.
Gary was literately so afraid of being abandoned that he worried himself into a drastic and severe tantrum; he really couldn't help this feature of Autism Spectrum Disorder. "Never, baby." whispered DCI Gene Hunt who wanted to let Gary know he is loved unconditionally, no matter what he did. He felt choked up with a dry throat. "I'd never leave you for anything, I'm yours forever as the only responsible parent you've got."