A prostitute called Sylvie Ashford (Jennifer Wilson) is knifed in her room. Watt wants the culprit found and convicted, but he comes up against a wall of silence which is hard to break down ….
A World Full of Rooms opens with Sylvie entertaining what appears to be a client. We later learn that Charley Smith (Milton Johns) is generally referred to as Mad Charley Smith, which given his actions and demeanour comes as no surprise. Over the decades Johns has carved out a nice niche playing sadistic characters, of which Mad Charley is a prime example.
Sylvie’s slowing spiralling unease as she realises that the still, sinister man has an agenda of his own is nicely played by Wilson. To emphasise the way she begins to feel trapped, the camera closes in on her face. An obvious move, but still effective.
Charley’s looking for Sylvie’s ponce, Tommy Bartrum, who’s disappeared. Tommy works for Jackie Frankitt (Alex Scott) as does Charley. Jackie’s currently inside, so his business interests (prostitution, naturally) are being looked after by his sister Mollie (Elizabeth Seal). It appears that Tommy’s absconded with some of Jackie’s money, hence the interest.
The attack on Sylvie has disrupted the smooth running of the neighbourhood, which concerns Detective Sergeant Foster (Aubrey Richards). Foster has been a vice detective for thirty years and it’s plain that he operates in a very hands-off mode. He regards the vice scene in the area as disorganised and low-key, so sees no reason why everything should be stirred up by Watt’s aggressive questioning. Rarely seen without a fag dangling from his mouth, Foster is the antithesis of a policeman like Watt.
As the Task Force’s token woman, it falls to Donald to go to the hospital to try and make Sylvie talk. Considering that it wasn’t a life-threatening attack, it seems a little strange that Donald spends so much time with her. It’s also slightly odd that Sylvie seems to have a private room complete with a television set. Clearly prostitution pays ….
Sylvie tells Donald that “you’re a different animal to me. You live in the fresh air, see. I live in a room, with little rodents. Ever since I was 16, I’ve lived in rooms, whole world full of little rodents.” Donald tries to get her to name her attacker, but Sylvie knows what her fate would be. She’s offered protection, but Donald’s offer is an empty one (which presumably she realises – after all, how long could they really protect her?).
Jake Rollins (Keith Marsh) and John Johnson (John Bown) are also reluctant to talk to the police. They live in the flat below Sylvie and Jake is able to identity Charley as Sylvie’s attacker. But Jake also knows what would happen if he was to give evidence. Jake and John are clearly a couple, although it’s not stated outright. After Watt and Snow leave their room, Snow remarks that they were quite helpful, considering. Watt looks at him but doesn’t say anything. Later Watt uses the same remark to Snow in an ironic way, although Snow doesn’t respond either. Snow’s prejudices are therefore made clear, but not in an overt way.
Watt is able to persuade both Jake and Sylvie to name Mad Charley. His bullying of Sylvie is something of an eye-opener (the episode closes with a shot of Sylvie’s weary face lying in her hospital bed). She might have agreed to give a statement, but at what cost to her? And what cost to Jake and John? Watt may have got the result he wanted – enough evidence to charge Charley – but there’s an uncomfortable sense that the witnesses may be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. Does Watt appreciate this, or is the “result” the only thing that matters?
Another taut script from Allan Prior, A World Full of Rooms is enlivened by several of the guest players, notably Milton Johns and Jennifer Wilson. At the start of the story, Charley is totally in control, but when we see him again (towards the end) this control is starting to crack. If Johns has always been good at playing sadists, then he’s even better at playing sadists who have some sort of character flaw, like Mad Charley. The scenes between Wilson and Tebbs, as Sylvie recounts her life, don’t advance the plot a great deal, but they help to make her seem like a real person, rather than the cliché figure of the middle-aged prostitute she otherwise might have been.