by Sandy Barker
The door opens a crack and a sliver of Jack’s (lovely) face appears. ‘Oh, hey, want to come in?’ he asks, opening the door wider. It’s the most welcoming he’s been towards me in some time and I entertain a morsel of hope that our fractured friendship will also mend soon.
‘Er, yes, I just wanted to have a word with you and Harry about something.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ I follow him inside, seeing that Tim and the editor, Silvia, are also there. On the monitor is a still of Tara and Kylie―conspiring, no doubt, and apt, as they’re who I’m here to talk about. Only, I don’t want to say anything in front of the others. Jack must twig.
‘Hey guys, can you take a break? Say, ten minutes?’ he says, leaning against one of the desks. Tim leaps out of his chair. ‘Hey, Abby,’ he says as he rushes past me. Silvia makes a notation on a tablet and smiles as she leaves. Then it’s just the three of us, the brothers looking at me expectantly.
‘Right, so I’ll be quick as I know you have work to do. It’s about Elizabeth’s passport.’
Harry nods, his eyes narrowing in interest and Jack expels a frustrated sigh. ‘Oh, wait,’ he says, perking up, ‘has it been found?’
‘Er, no.’ His shoulders slump and he indicates that I should continue. ‘But I’ve been thinking. It doesn’t make sense that it just magically disappeared. We’ve all got those safes in our rooms and that’s where Elizabeth said she put hers when she first arrived, right?’ They both nod. ‘And when Tabitha left the Manor, she had to retrieve her passport from the same safe.’ Harry’s eyes narrow even further and Jack presses his lips together.
‘So, what if she forgot to relock the safe and Elizabeth’s passport was just there for the taking?’
‘We thought of that,’ says Harry, ‘and as much as we hated doing it, we asked every member of the crew if they’d “seen” it.’
‘We’re confident that none of them had anything to do with it and at this point, we’re thinking that either Elizabeth moved it―you know, the way people do sometimes―put it in a “safe place” then forget about it. Or …’ He throws Harry a look and Harry nods at him. ‘Maybe one of the cleaners took it.’
‘We’re hoping it’s the former, of course,’ Harry rushes to add.
‘But that’s just it. I have a different theory.’
Jack’s chin lifts slightly, showing his interest, then he licks his lips. It’s an innocuous gesture―his lips must have been dry―but all I can think of is how incredibly attractive he is. And how much I want to shoo Harry away and launch myself at Jack so I can kiss those newly wetted, perfect, perfect lips.
‘So, what’s your theory?’ prompts Harry.
I look at him, horrified that he’s somehow read my mind, though I try to disguise it. But having been caught out fanaticising about Jack, I’ve lost my train of thought. ‘Oh, yes, right, sorry. What if one of the other Does took the passport? Or even two other Does?’
They both look perplexed. ‘Hear me out. I know that there are police checks and character references and all that, and I’m not suggesting you let someone in the Manor who’s running a fake passport ring out of their bedroom, or anything like that. But there are a couple of nasty sorts in the Manor. Bullies. And I know you know who I am talking about, and they’ve been awful to Elizabeth, especially since she was eliminated from the show.
‘What if they took the passport? To keep her around a little longer so they can torment her―their little “plaything”. Even if we do nothing, I suspect they’ll soon get bored and that Elizabeth’s passport will magically reappear in her underwear drawer, or something. Then they’ll probably make fun of her for that―a last hurrah, so to speak. The bitches.’
Harry grins. ‘Tell us what you really think, Abby.’ It’s the first time I’ve said anything nasty about the Villains in the Manor without the buffer of Anastasia and it feels rather good to let it out.
‘That does make sense,’ Jack says.
‘So, now what?’
‘Now, Harry and I figure out a way to talk to Tara and Kylie about it, diplomatically.’
‘Why diplomatically?’ I ask. I’m now convinced I’m right, even without a shred of evidence.
‘Because,’ says Jack, as though he’s explaining something simple to a child, ‘we can’t very well march into the lounge room and shout, “Hey, did you two steal Elizabeth’s passport as a joke?”’
‘Well, obvs,’ I reply, miffed.
‘Well, that’s why. If they did take it, it’s serious. It may even be a police matter. You can’t just go about taking people’s passports, you know.’
‘I do know that, thank you, Jack. That’s why I’m here.’ We eye each other across the room, adversaries again. Bollocks.
‘Okay, you two, we’re getting a little off track,’ interjects Harry. To Jack, he says, ‘We could just search their room. Fabricate some kind of date, get them out of the Manor …’ Ooh, I like this idea!
Jack rubs his chin, a frown nestled firmly in place. ‘Can’t do that. It’s a violation of the privacy clause in their contracts. It’s also wrong, very wrong.’ I hate to admit it, but he’s right, and I also hate admitting to myself that his strong moral compass is highly appealing, immediately negating his misdemeanour of patronising me.
‘Yeah, yeah, you’re right,’ says Harry.
‘Right, well, I’ve done all I can―’
‘You mean, come in here and open a giant can of worms?’ teases Harry.
‘I mean, help you solve an enormous problem. It could be another week or two before Elizabeth gets her replacement passport and we can’t just have her stuck here―miserable―for all that time.’
‘And if you’re right, we can’t let it slide,’ says Jack. ‘And not just for Elizabeth’s sake. If this got out, it could do serious damage to the show.’
I point at him. ‘What you said.’ Jack smiles at me and we’re allies again. And I won’t lie. That smile does wonders to my insides, but right now there are more pressing matters than my annoyingly steadfast crush on Jack. ‘Right, I shall leave you to it. Let me know if there’s anything more I can do.’
Just as I get to the door, Jack calls out, ‘Hey, Abby?’
I turn. ‘Mmm?’
‘Thanks. Really. I reckon you might be right, and we do need to get this figured out.’
I grin. It feels good to be helpful. ‘Bye,’ I say, slipping out the door. I head back to the main house and poke my head in Elizabeth’s open door. ‘Hello,’ I say. She starts at the sound of my voice. ‘Oh, sorry, I just came to see how you are and to say goodnight.’
She lays her book beside her―another of the grisly crime thrillers she loves―and swings her legs over the side of her bed. ‘Oh, that’s all right,’ she says. ‘Just me being jittery. Did you want to come in?’ She indicates the empty bed opposite and I cross the room and perch on its edge.
‘So, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know, busy, busy, busy. These books won’t read themselves.’ She nods her head in the direction of a stack on her bedside table.
‘Wouldn’t it be the best job ever to get paid to read?’ I ask.
She laughs. ‘I’d love that. Though I’d miss the children. That’s one thing I’m looking forward to, seeing my pupils.’
‘What age again?’
‘Four and five.’ I have no experience with children that age, so I just smile. ‘Abby, I wanted to thank you again.’
‘For what?’
‘For being so nice to me …’
‘Elizabeth, we’re friends. You don’t need to thank me for that.’
‘Well, yes, all right, but I am grateful to you for standing up for me. I’ve never … I grew up in a small village and went to school in a slightly larger village―we were all quite close and everybody got along, so I’ve never been around this type of behaviour … I’m not sure I even know what to call it.’
‘Bullying.’
‘I suppose that’s right.’
‘It is, trust me. There w
ere girls like that at my school and if it weren’t for my best friend, Lisa, they would have been on at me constantly. She was my buffer, she and our little gang of friends.’
‘You’re my buffer, you and the others―Kaz, Becca.’
‘We are.’ I reach across the space between us and grab her hand, giving it a squeeze, Becca style. ‘And it’s probably got nothing to do with you―they’re just messed up people. They clearly didn’t have a Reception teacher who loved them the way you love your pupils.’ She smiles at that. ‘They’re just basic bitches being bullies.’ At my alliteration, she starts giggling.
‘Anyway, this won’t be forever. As soon as your passport gets sorted, you’ll be on the next flight home.’
She nods, her giggles diminishing. ‘I’m just really embarrassed,’ she says.
‘About what?’
‘About Daniel not wanting me, then being stuck here, humiliated.’
‘Hey, it’s Daniel’s loss. You’re a catch, you really are. And, think of it this way, all of us, bar one, are going to feel rejected. Who knows, I could be the next to go. Ooh, maybe we’ll get to fly back to the UK together.’ I receive a half-smile for that, but then she shakes her head.
‘No, Daniel likes you. I can tell. Maybe you’re his bride-to-be, Abby.’ Perish the thought, but I will not make gagging sounds in front of Elizabeth. I leap up.
‘Right, I’ll see you in the morning,’ I say, making my way to the door.
‘Goodnight,’ she calls after me.
I pause at the doorway. ‘Goodnight, and remember, we’re just down the hallway if you need us.’ I close the door behind me and head to my room.
Becca is seated on her bed cross-legged, slathering on an enormous blob of hand cream. Her hands look like they’re covered in yoghurt. ‘Good session?’ she asks.
For a moment, I forget that I was supposedly meditating. ‘Er, yes. I feel … er … refreshed.’ I cross to my bed and start getting changed into my nightgown. We had a few days of modesty in the beginning, where we’d each disappear into the bathroom to get dressed, but that wore thin rather quickly and now we just change in front of the other. Sometimes, I sneak a peek at Becca out of curiosity. I’ve never seen a body that perfect up close before.
‘I never saw the appeal myself,’ she says, still on meditation. ‘I mean, I’ve tried it―you know, at the end of yoga class―but I can never really concentrate. My mind always wanders off.’ It’s not lost on me that she says this right as mine has wandered off.
‘But that’s an important part of it, letting the mind wander,’ I say. I had to read up on meditation as soon as I adopted it as my alibi for sneaking away to the Control Room or my hidey hole. ‘You allow the thoughts to come, then let them go, and return to the one thing you’re focused on. Practicing mindfulness, it’s called,’ I add. Come to think of it, maybe I should be meditating. It would certainly be a nice break for my overly active monkey mind.
‘Well, it seems to work for you.’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Well, sometimes you’re gone for an hour or two at a time. So, you must be good at it, the focusing part.’
It’s been a while now since one of my lies slapped me in the face with a dead fish. ‘Er, yes, I suppose so. Oh, I just saw Elizabeth.’ Deflection―another tool in my arsenal of deceit.
In an instant, Becca’s face radiates empathy. ‘How is she?’
‘I imagine she’s been better, but I reaffirmed everything we talked about―you, me, and Kaz―that she has us, none of this is her fault, and that Daniel just wasn’t the right man for her …’ Becca nods solemnly at this and I’d bet a first date with Jack she’s agreeing because she thinks he’s the right man for her. ‘And that the Cruella Sisters are just bullies.’
It was Becca’s (absolutely genius) idea to call them the ‘Cruella Sisters’. It’s the perfect nickname―not only because of their matching hairstyles in platinum blonde and inky black, but that either one could out-evil Cruella herself―though the original one who made a coat from Dalmatians, not Emma Stone’s version, the poor love.
Anastasia would have loved using the nickname in a recap, but it’s gone on the list of ‘things I cannot speak of lest I give myself away’.
‘Yeah, they are. Any word on her passport?’
‘Er … no, nothing.’
‘She must be desperate to get home, poor thing.’
‘Yes,’ I agree.
‘Still, it’s probably … actually, never mind …’ Becca trails off, still rubbing her yoghurt lotion into her cuticles.
‘What?’ I’m on my way into the bathroom, but something about Becca’s tone stops me.
She looks at me like she’s deciding whether to reveal something. ‘Look, I hope you don’t think I’m a bitch or anything, but with fewer Does here, it means more time with Daniel, right? And the more Does that get sent home it’s … I guess I’m just impatient for the serious part to start.’
She has my full attention now. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘You’re going to think I’m a bitch.’
‘Don’t say that. You’re not a bitch.’
She sighs. ‘Look, it’s highly unlikely that Daniel’s going to pick one of the Cruella Sisters. They are bitches, for one thing, but they’re just so … you know … meh.’ She’s right about that―they’re two completely unremarkable women, save for the remarkable way they’ve elevated ‘bitchiness’ to a whole new level. ‘And I love Kaz―I can totally see us being friends in the real world.’ It’s not the first time a Doe has alluded to life in the Manor as being detached from ‘the real world’―most of us think that way, especially me.
‘But Kaz doesn’t give a shit about Daniel―or even like him. I see the faces she makes when she thinks no one’s looking. And Justine―she’ll leave the Manor, get an agent, and be happy as Larry. So, that just leaves you, me, and Daphne. And god knows what Daphne’s motivations are. I can’t tell if she’s really interested in Daniel or just wants to win. Though, he seems to like her, I guess,’ she says, lowering her eyes and frowning.
I’m silent, as I sense a big revelation coming and after a moment, Becca lifts her eyes to mine. ‘And I know Daniel has feelings for you.’ I shake my head―it’s an impulse, but real Abby was quick to protest when Doe Abby should have agreed with Becca. ‘No, it’s true, even if you don’t believe it.’ At least she didn’t think it was out of character for me to disagree with her.
‘But …’ Oh, god, there’s more. This may be the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve had since I got here―including asking Jack to tone down his friendliness towards me. And as necessary as that was, I frequently berate myself for it.
‘I get the feeling that you’re torn,’ says Becca. This is dangerously close to the truth and my stomach sours. I’m only halfway through this assignment and my position here is already tenuous―I still haven’t heard whether Roberta was happy with my revised recap. ‘I can see you have feelings for Daniel …’ She can? This will never stop surprising me―that I am a better actress than I thought possible. ‘… but there’s also Jack, isn’t there?’
Oh, so she’s not talking about me being torn between Doe Abby and real Abby. I send a silent thank-you to Cadmus, but now I need to decide how much to let on. I’m friends with Becca, but the foundation of our friendship is a lie. Who knows what she’ll think of me if she ever discovers the truth? And my feelings for Jack are a big part of the truth.
What can I say that will protect my true identity but explain my poorly disguised feelings for the gorgeous Australian? ‘You’ve got me,’ I say with a shrug. I may as well play the hand I’ve been dealt and keep as close to the truth as possible.
She rewards me with a grin. ‘I thought so.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Well, yeah. I mean, whenever he’s around you stare at him and you get this kind of starstruck look on your face.’
Oh, bollocks. Deflect, deflect, deflect. ‘But how do yo
u know I haven’t got a crush on Harry? Or Tim? Or even Carlie?’
She tilts her head to the side. ‘Abs, come on, it’s Jack.’
‘He is rather gorgeous.’ God, it feels good to say that out loud. ‘But it’s just a crush. He’s nice to look at, but I barely even know him,’ I lie. If she can believe I have feelings for Daniel, hopefully she can believe my feeling for Jack are, at most, a schoolgirl crush.
‘Sure, I guess, but if you decide that you do like Jack more than Daniel, and I completely understand if you don’t, but if you do … maybe don’t accept the pin next time,’ she pleads, her eyes filled with hope.
If only it were that simple.
But if Roberta decides to keep me here, I will have to accept every pin I’m offered. Except the final pin, that is. No matter what, this assignment finishes here in Sydney. I am not living ‘happily ever after’ with the Stag for the sake of an online column―especially that twat. But I can’t say any of this to Becca.
‘I won’t, I promise,’ I reply, adding a promise I can’t keep to my stinking pile of lies.
Chapter Fifteen
‘You’re done with that, right?’ Kylie reaches across the counter and takes Elizabeth’s bowl just as she’s dipped her spoon into it. No, she wasn’t done with it and now there’s milk and cereal all over the counter.
There’s a stunned silence from the four of us―me, Becca, Kaz, and Elizabeth―as the blonde Cruella Sister makes a big to do of tossing the bowl into the sink.
As three voices explode in anger, all demanding that Kylie apologise, there’s a low growl from the other end of breakfast bar. ‘Clean it up.’ That sounded like it came from Elizabeth. I hold up a hand to quieten the others as Kylie turns around and leans against the sink, arms folded and smiling smugly at Elizabeth. ‘I said, “Clean it up”,’ Elizabeth snarls, her voice low and menacing. Becca’s eyes widen as she glances my way. Kaz sits back against her stool and matches Kylie’s folded arms, her gaze riveted to Elizabeth. She looks both proud and amused.