by Sandy Barker
‘No, I … that’s not―’
‘I’m not Elizabeth, Jack.’ It’s cruel to say that about my friend, even if it is true, and I hate myself for it. This assignment is turning me into a version of myself that I don’t particularly care for.
Jack’s eyes narrow and a vein pulses in his neck. ‘Okay, thanks for clarifying that,’ he says tersely. ‘Stupid of me to even consider your happiness.’ He goes to leave. But I can’t let him―not yet. What about Becca?
‘Jack!’ His hand drops from the door handle and he turns around. ‘Do you think we can get Roberta to change her mind? Becca … well, she really likes Daniel and … can we talk Roberta out of it?’
He shrugs. ‘Look, it’s not like it’s a done deal. You know how it works―we can guide Daniel but, ultimately, it’s his choice.’ I notice how he says ‘guide’ instead of ‘manipulate’ but let that go. ‘You don’t want to end up top two, don’t give him any reason to keep you around,’ he adds.
‘Right. You mean while simultaneously pretending that I really like him and hope he’ll choose me?’ I retort.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ he says, his eyes cold.
He goes to leave again, but while he’s here I may as well raise the other thing. ‘Also …’ The muscles in his shoulders tense and he faces me again, his expression devoid of friendliness. Ironically, that’s exactly what I’m about to mention. ‘I know that we’ve been working closely and that a …’ I want to say ‘friendship’ but that may not be the right word, especially now. ‘… a familiarity has formed between us …’ He nods curtly and it takes all my will to say the next words. ‘… but some of the Does have started to notice and―’
He cuts me off by raising his hand. ‘Yep, I got it. No worries.’
He turns to leave. This time I don’t stop him and he doesn’t even say goodbye.
After the door closes, I stare down at the phone on the card table. I did the right thing. If Jack genuinely thought that I might be interested in Daniel, then he doesn’t know me and we aren’t really friends. And with this new turn of events … God, I’m hating Roberta from afar right now. Maybe a tornado will whip up and deposit a Kansas farmhouse on top of her.
And Jack … he’d looked so … crestfallen, hurt, angry … all of the above.
I did the right thing, didn’t I?
Chapter Eleven
‘So, Abby,’ says Carlie, the production assistant, ‘describe what you like most about Daniel.’
She had to start with the hardest question. I’m on camera, filming a confessional and I’m supposed to reveal my innermost thoughts (well, Doe Abby’s) to be shared with millions of viewers around the world. Of all the pretending I’ve had to do, including with Daniel, I find confessionals the hardest. The camera is so close and I know from watching the dailies and rough edits that they zoom right in.
This means that every twitch and eyelash flutter, every nuance of what I say and how I say it is captured for all the (viewing) world to see. I don’t even like photographs of me―I’m constantly telling Lisa to delete the ones she takes―and it’s been no fun at all to discover that what I’ve been telling myself all this time is modesty, is actually vanity.
Abigail Jones, just as vain as the next woman, at your service.
And it’s not like we’re sequestered away in private for these confessionals; we’re set up in a corner of the garden where the crew has erected a trellis draped in fake greenery. It’s a little cringeworthy―how garish it is, yes, but also how exposed we are. I know from experience that anyone who wants to listen―as in the other Does―can, and easily.
It also doesn’t help one bit that Jack is right there, leaning against the garden wall with his arms crossed, watching me and scowling. I hate that we’ve gone from friends to colleagues―make that hostile colleagues―and I’ve yet to find the right time to apologise for jumping down his throat the other night. I may have been a tad over sensitive. Carlie’s also watching me, her growing impatience evident.
‘Well, Daniel’s so charming,’ I say, Doe Abby speak for ‘smarmy’. Carlie circles her finger in the air, a signal to continue. ‘And, he has a great sense of adventure,’ I add with what I hope is a convincing smile. That translates to Daniel doing any bizarre, awkward thing that he’s asked to do for the sake of the show. Like a couple of days ago when he and three of the Does finger-painted each other, then rolled around on a canvas to make ‘art’. I’m not joking.
It was like something you’d see at the Playboy Mansion, not Stag Manor. Still, those catty cows, Tara and Kylie, and wannabe Justine had seemed into it―especially Justine. It’s like she’s gone from dreaming of a role on Neighbours to starring in something a little more … er … adult.
Carlie’s finger loops faster. ‘And, I mean, Daniel’s so …’ I drop the façade, my smile fading and my shoulders slumping.
‘Cut,’ says Carlie.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m just a little self-conscious talking like this.’ Well, that’s not a lie, even if my reasons differ from Doe Abby’s. I glance in Jack’s direction and his scowl has intensified. ‘Go away, Jack,’ I will him with my mind. Sadly, I have no mind control ability whatsoever; otherwise, he would have fallen madly in love with me by now and swept me away from all this madness.
Jack remains rooted to the spot, his jaw tense and his eyes hard. He’s like a solar eclipse―compelling, yet dangerous. ‘Look away, Abby, look away!’ I tell myself. Too late, my emotional retinas are burnt to a crisp.
Carlie’s expression is hardly any better with her lips pressed into a frustrated smile. ‘How about this?’ she says. ‘Just say a few words about how Daniel makes you feel.’
Hah, if only! Incensed. Annoyed. Bored. Mildly disgusted. Very annoyed. ‘Come on, Abby, you can do this. You spin words out of thin air for a living.’ The internal pep talk works. ‘All right,’ I say, sitting up straight. Carlie smiles, genuinely this time, though it’s likely just relief. Mine is the last Doe confessional for the day and I’m sure she’s desperate to wrap up proceedings and get home.
‘And we’re rolling. Any time you’re ready, Abby,’ she says.
‘When I’m with Daniel, he makes me feel special,’ I say as convincingly as possible, adding a shy half-shrug to really sell it.
‘Cut. That’s perfect, Abby, thank you.’ She starts packing up as I disentangle myself from my microphone. In my periphery, I notice Jack slinking off to the annex.
‘Abby! Come on!’ calls Kaz. She, Becca, and Justine are waiting for me on the patio so we can play gin rummy, which has somehow (under Kaz’s governance) turned into a drinking game.
‘Coming!’ I call. ‘I just need a quick wee.’
‘Gross, Abs,’ says Becca. Since learning Lisa’s nickname for me, Becca has adopted it, which I love; it makes me miss my bestie a teeny bit less.
‘Sorry,’ I call over my shoulder. When I enter the Manor, Elizabeth is on one of the ridiculously long sofas (definitely a Stag Manor staple, no matter which continent it’s filmed on), her feet tucked under her and reading a book. I make a detour and perch on the end of the sofa. ‘Hello,’ I say. Her eyes scan to the end of a line and then lift to meet mine.
‘Hello.’ Her tone lacks its usual sweetness but I forge ahead.
‘We’re playing gin rummy out on the patio if you’d like to join us,’ I say hopefully.
She looks outside, scans the group, then frowns, her eyes dropping back to the book. ‘I’d rather read.’
I suspected she’d say as much. Since the night of the last Pin Ritual, when she told us about kissing Daniel, Elizabeth has actively avoided Becca and, to some extent, me and Kaz. Last night, she walked into the living room and the second she saw Becca, did an about-face.
‘I don’t know how to make things right,’ Becca said to me later in our room. ‘I like Elizabeth, I do, but … god, that was so hard hearing her talk about Daniel like that. Argh, this sucks! Should I even try to fix things, Abs?’
It
was an excellent question and I could tell Becca felt awful but I didn’t have an answer for her then and even now, as I try to cajole Elizabeth into joining us, I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. I hate that there’s a rift between them, and so does Becca, but this is a competition. What did I expect? That we’d all become best friends and, as each of us are picked off and packed up, we’d simply carry on merrily?
‘Are you sure?’ I ask Elizabeth.
She puts down her book and gives me a look that is one hundred per cent schoolmarm, a side of her I haven’t seen before. ‘I’m sure, Abby.’
Just then, Gordo arrives through the front door, trailed by Harry and Tim, who’s carrying a camera on his shoulder. ‘Layyy-deees! Gather round please,’ Gordo sings out.
This is unexpected, as we thought we’d finished filming for the day. My fellow card players come in from the patio and the other Does drift into the lounge room from the kitchen and upstairs. Some pairs of eyes are wild with excitement, some weary, others (like mine) wary. When Gordo shows up unannounced, it’s to announce something, like a date.
The camera pans across the gathered Does, and the not-so-subtle adjustments are almost comical―shoulders back, stomach in, chin lifted, ‘best side’ towards the camera. I don’t bother to disguise my annoyance―I really was looking forward to playing cards. I wonder if Harry and Jack will include the footage of me frowning at Gordo when they edit together the next episode.
‘So, ladies, you’re probably wondering why I am here.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Daphne tuck her razor-sharp blonde bob behind her ears. ‘Preener,’ I think unkindly. Gordo pulls a glossy envelope out of his inside coat pocket and holds it aloft. ‘Inside this envelope are the names of three incredibly lucky ladies.’ He lingers on the last three words―perhaps he gets paid by the second. And I’m not sure how he’s done it but from his mouth, the word ‘ladies’ is steeped in innuendo. Lll-ayyy-deees. Ewww.
‘Tomorrow, these three Does will be going on a special date with Daniel tooo …’ More upbeat than usual, Gordo is dragging this out as if he’s announcing the BAFTA for Best Actress in a television series. Come to think of it, I could be in the running for that this year. ‘… the Hunter Valley for a day of wine tasting!’ Ooh, that sounds wonderful. For the first time since we started filming, I hope my name is in Gordo’s envelope.
‘Now, who will the lucky ladies be?’ He waves it around like a magician at a children’s birthday party. Someone―likely Harry, or perhaps even Jack―has had a word in Gordo’s ear. His line delivery has vastly improved. Gordo the Magnificent is much better than Gordo the funeral director and I mentally file that away for Anastasia’s next recap.
Gordo breaks the seal of the envelope and pulls out a stiff card, reads it, then looks about the room. ‘Daphneee …’ The Ice Queen’s shoulders do a smug little shimmy. ‘Beccaaa …’ Becca’s behind me, leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling glass doors and when I catch her eye, she winks at me, a broad grin on her face. I turn back around, hoping that the final name is mine. ‘Aaand, Abbyyy!’ says Gordo. Yes!
I feel Becca’s hand squeeze mine. ‘Abs, this is gonna be amazing,’ she says in my ear and I grin. I am in Australia and tomorrow I’m going to wine country with my friend. It’s lovely to pretend―even for just a moment―that that’s all there is to it.
‘Oh, bugger right off,’ says Tara, skulking back upstairs. Gordo’s mugging for the camera, but he’s soon forgotten when Kylie speaks up and Tim swings it in her direction.
‘Oh, who cares? I’ve been to the Hunter a million times,’ she drawls. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Then why have you been there a million times?’ asks Becca, her voice low. I stifle a giggle.
‘The Barossa’s way better,’ Kylie adds, although it’s unclear who she’s taking to―no one seems to be listening.
Tim gives Harry the nod, indicating he got all that on camera, and I wonder if Kylie’s aware that she’s playing right into the villainous role they’ve assigned her. Or perhaps she’s as horrid in real life as she is in the Manor.
‘That’s a wrap everyone,’ says Harry.
‘For real this time?’ I ask. ‘No other surprises planned, Harry? Kylie Minogue’s not going to come and make us pancakes in the morning, is she?’
‘Hah!’ Becca laughs.
‘Nah, nothing like that,’ Harry says, chuckling. ‘Have a good one, everyone. Hey, Gordo, let’s go, mate.’
Before being called away, Gordo was trying in vain to chat up Daphne. What does he think will happen? That if Daphne’s not chosen by Daniel, she’ll fall straight into his arms? As he leaves, he cocks his finger at her and winks. Daphne looks like she’s bitten into something sour and even I feel sorry for her. When she glances around the room seeking solidarity, her eyes meet mine and I crinkle my nose and make a face―no one deserves to have that letch fawning all over them. Daphne looks away, horrified, then leaps off the sofa and heads upstairs.
‘My apologies, Daphne!’ I want to shout after her. ‘Sorry for being empathetic!’ Evidently, by showing her a modicum of kindness, I’ve deeply offended her. Lesson learnt!
The other Does have also dissipated to various parts of the Manor, including Becca and the rest of my gin rummy gang who’ve gone back to the patio. The only one left in the lounge room is Elizabeth and she resumes reading and starts working her lip as though she’s about to chew through it.
‘Abs, come on! Kaz has dealt,’ calls Becca. Hopefully, cards will be a good distraction. I need to steer clear of all this drama.
‘Coming!’ I call. ‘After I go for a wee!’
Well, this is not what I expected.
I’m not sure how I saw this foursome panning out―particularly as I know that we three Does are the top contenders for Bride―but whoever planned this date is just plain sadistic. I hope it was Roberta, or even Harry. I’d hate to think that Jack had anything to do with it.
The day started out perfectly fine. We drove here in a convoy of two minivans, Tim squeezed in with us so he could film us ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ahh-ing’ as we crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge (that part was actually very exciting) and the rest of the crew, including Harry and Jack, followed closely, lugging the film equipment.
Leaving the metropolis of Sydney in our wake and heading north-west towards the Hunter Valley, the scenery induced even more exclamations. Not surprising, really―gently undulating green hills dotted with stands of eucalyptus trees and neat rows of vines. We even saw a group of kangaroos in a field. A ‘mob’ they’re called, according to our driver. They’d seemed non-plussed as we flew past, lifting their heads to watch us and continuing to chew on their lunch the ways cows do.
And despite being stuck in a vehicle with both Daniel and Daphne (who still won’t deign to look at me, let alone speak to me), I considered it a lovely start to the day. Not long ago, we arrived at our destination, a boutique winery, and were shepherded into the tasting room (closed to visitors for filming), presumably to taste wine.
How silly of me! While the crew are scurrying about setting up, Harry and Jack have pulled us aside to explain the day’s filming. First, we’ll each film our alone time with Daniel, something I had (stupidly) not foreseen and (it probably goes without saying) am dreading. Only then will we get to taste the wine. What this means is that I am about to spend (what will feel like) a millennium alone with Daphne and, as I’ve mentioned, there isn’t any wine! Torture, pure and simple.
‘So, what kinda dates?’ asks Becca. Excellent question, Becca. I hadn’t even thought of that. Presumably, they’ll want shots of us wandering amongst the vines, gazing at each other longingly. Ugh. Despite what Roberta seems to think about our ‘chemistry’, gazing at Daniel longingly is going to take far more acting ability than I possess. I doubt Kate Winslet could pull it off.
Harry’s eyes are ablaze with excitement. ‘So, guys, get this. You’re going on adventure dates.’
‘Hah!’ exclaims Daniel, rubbing h
is hands together. Well, he seems delighted, but when I look at Daphne, I see a reflection of my own horror. Sacré bleu, Daphne and I agree! Were we not practically sworn enemies, I would high-five her or cry, ‘I’m with you, sister,’ or something like that.
‘Sorry, what do you mean by “adventure dates”?’ she asks, eyeing Harry warily. Another brilliant question and my mind reels with possibilities. At least this explains why they haven’t given us any wine yet.
I glance at Jack just as he runs his hand along his jaw and I know from this simple gesture that this twist was Harry’s doing. Actually, from the way he’s looking at his brother, Jack may have tried to talk Harry out of it. ‘Yeah, we’re not exactly dressed for “adventure”,’ says Becca, who’s wearing a floor-length floral maxi dress.
‘Well, except maybe Abby,’ says Daphne snidely. I glance at her linen palazzo trousers and smart chevron tank top, then down at my own outfit. I look perfectly nice, thank you very much, Daphne. I’m wearing the jeans that make my bum look good and a flowy silk blouse.
‘Hey, guys, remember who you’re talking to here,’ says Harry, a broad grin on his face. ‘We’ve taken care of all that.’ He signals to a crewmember who dashes about depositing bags at our feet.
‘So, Becca, you’ll be going abseiling …’ She grins, sharing an excited look with Daniel. While Becca clearly thinks abseiling will be fun, I can’t think of anything worse than plummeting to your death because you’ve (stupidly) decided to dangle from the side of a cliff by a half-inch thick rope.
‘Daphne, you and Daniel will be going four-wheel-driving …’ Now that would be fun. ‘And Abby, you and Daniel are going horse riding.’ Harry looks well pleased with himself, but I am (of course) horrified. This is far worse than discovering I have to spend time alone with both Daniel and Daphne.
‘Excellent!’ says Daniel. Yes, all very well for you, Daniel. You get to spend the day having fun and I … I have to do the ONE THING that terrifies me more than anything else, including abseiling!