The Shelf

by Helly Acton

  ‘Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem with it when we got those free flights to Magaluf last month, Jason, so why don’t you make your mind up?’ Gemma screams, leaning forward with her arms crossed tightly.

  Amy makes a mental note not to cross her.

  ‘Next up is – drum roll, please – Jeremy!’

  Kathy groans at a black-and-white photo of her on her wedding day. It must have been taken at least thirty years ago.

  She sighs. ‘Look at me. So bloody naive. An absolute fool.’

  Name: Kathy Hegarty

  Age: 52

  Location: Bristol

  Profession: None

  Status: Married, two adult kids

  Description: Bitter

  The camera switches to a small, middle-aged, twitchy man with large sideburns and an earring in his left ear. He looks like a bad-tempered ferret.

  ‘Jezza. Bitter? Ouch! That’s gotta leave a bad taste in the mouth.’

  ‘Well, it does, Adam.’ The ferret shrugs. ‘I put Kathy on The Shelf because she was refusing to leave. I told her weeks ago to pack her things. She just ignores me. If she has nowhere else to go, that’s her problem, not mine. She needs to accept our kids have moved out, I have moved on and Susan’s moved in.’

  ‘Who’s Susan?’

  ‘The love of my life, Adam, that’s who. Anyway, Kathy’s ruined what was supposed to be a happy time for us for too long. Susan is really upset. Mine and Kathy’s relationship is over, and I’ll be filing for divorce when she gets out. I’m hoping The Shelf will help her accept reality.’

  Amy shuffles towards her. ‘Kathy, I’m so sorry.’

  Kathy looks at Amy with a surprisingly calm face. ‘Don’t be. I knew about the affair for ages. He’s such a cliché, leaving the dumpy old wife for the sexy young PA. Pathetic, really,’ she whispers.

  ‘Sounds like you’re takin’ it like a total boss,’ says Lauren. She hands Kathy a tissue. ‘I’d have gone fookin’ apeshit.’

  Oh, God.

  Name: Amy Wright

  Age: 32

  Location: London

  Profession: Copywriter

  Status: Long-term relationship

  Description: Desperate

  It’s Jamie and Amy on the beach in Cannes earlier this year. Their last holiday together. Jamie is bronzed, shirtless and showing off his six-pack. Amy is covered from head to toe in a variety of mismatching sarongs and Factor 100 sun cream, having burnt herself to a crisp the day before. She looks ridiculous. She can’t believe he’s used that picture. His last stab.

  Bring it on, Jamie.

  ‘Moving on to Jamie! Tell us, where did you meet Michael Jackson?’ Adam guffaws. The audience crack up and Jamie fake-laughs. Amy knows it well. ‘Just kidding. Tell us about your relationship with Amy.’

  ‘Hi everyone.’ He sits up, spreads his legs and rests his elbows on his knees while clasping his hands together in his classic let me explain something to you pose. ‘I’m Jamie O’Connor, CEO of new executive search agency Headplace.’

  Someone in the audience wolf-whistles. Something stabs Amy in the gut.

  ‘Ha, thank you. Anyway, I’m Amy’s ex-boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, Amy is a lovely girl. Just … for someone else.’

  Who, Jamie? And why the fuck has this only just dawned on you?

  ‘I left Amy on The Shelf because she was always putting pressure on me to move in, get married, have kids. I could not have been clearer when I told her I didn’t want any of it. She just kept on pushing, pushing, pushing. I suppose it’s the natural programming of most women. It’s not their fault – it’s just nature.’

  He’s said that to her before. She thought he was teasing.

  ‘I hope Amy learns to listen on The Shelf. I wish her luck. For more information and all your executive search needs, visit Headplace.co.uk or email jamieo@headplace.com.’

  Amy stares at the screen, unflinching.

  ‘You all right, love?’ Lauren leans over to rub her knee.

  ‘Desperate?’ Amy replies, before clearing her throat. ‘It’s like he’s talking about a completely different person. It’s like he was in a completely different relationship. It’s all total lies. Pressure? We never once had a conversation about it, I swear to God,’ she says. ‘I’m not mad, I promise.’

  ‘We know you’re not,’ says Jackie. ‘It’s just classic male bullshit.’

  ‘How about I make everyone a cup of tea?’ Kathy stands up and looks around.

  ‘Kathy, please do not leave the living room.’

  Hattie suddenly throws her head into her lap. The rest of them look up to see a photo of her on screen. It’s terrible. It’s a selfie of Dylan, who looks like a prize prat, laughing at Hattie asleep on the sofa in the background. It isn’t flattering. Her mouth is hanging open.

  Name: Hattie Jackson

  Age: 33

  Location: Southampton

  Profession: Chef

  Relationship status: Long-term relationship

  Description: Boring

  ‘Chefs work long hours!’ she shouts from between her knees, barely audible.

  Dylan is a filthy-looking man-child, sitting on the studio sofa in a Fortnite hoody and baggy jeans, with his greasy black hair slicked down over his forehead.

  ‘Hattie, how old is Dylan?’ Jackie asks the question on everyone’s mind.

  Hattie sits up, her face bright red.

  ‘Thirty-four. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ she replies.

  ‘Dylan, Dyl, Dyl Boy, Dylo Pad … What’s going on, man? Tell us why you left Hattie on The Shelf.’

  ‘Yeah, all right bruv, you can call me Big D.’

  Vom.

  ‘Hattie’s got a heart of gold, no denying. I’ve got a few back troubles and I can’t do much around the house. She does most of the cleanin’, shoppin’, making tea ’n shit – sorry, stuff. I can’t swear, can I?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sweet. Sorry. But the deal is, right, she’s just got well boring. She’s always moaning ’n shhh … stuff. You know, the little things. We never ’ave a laugh anymore. It’s always like: put your mug in the dishwasher, or turn the telly down, it’s three a.m. It’s like she’s sixty-three, not thirty-three. And if I wanted a grandma, I’d just move in with mine. At least she’d make me biscuits – do you know what I mean!’ He laughs. Like a dolphin.

  ‘I’ve told him before,’ Hattie says quietly. ‘I cook all day. The last thing I feel like doing is making you biscuits. I make him dinner, isn’t that enough?’ she asks, looking around the sofa.

  ‘Cooking dinner is more than I do, babe!’ Gemma pipes up. ‘Silly bugger should’ve counted his blessings while he had them, if you ask me.’

  ‘Ah, fookin’ hell,’ mutters Lauren.

  Name: Lauren Hawk

  Age: 36

  Location: Newcastle

  Profession: DJ

  Status: Short-term relationship

  Description: Easy

  Lauren’s photo looks like a promo picture, showing her behind the decks in a nightclub.

  ‘Bloody hell, babes, you look well cool.’ Gemma nudges her. Lauren smiles, shrugs and looks down, almost sheepishly.

  ‘Now, bad news everybody,’ Adam says to the camera. ‘Lauren’s partner – or should I say ex-partner – has chosen to remain anonymous.’

  The audience boo.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s written us a letter instead. Let’s see what Mr Anonymous has to say.’

  He waves a card around.

  ‘I left Lauren on The Shelf because she’s a liar. She’s not the kind of woman I thought she was. I want to be her someone special, not just another number in her little black book of bed-hopping. She wouldn’t know what marriage material was if it slapped her on the arse. She thinks she’s all that because she gets behind a set of decks a few times a week. But she’s thirty-six, not twenty-six. Long past it. She needs to learn that no one is going to put a diamond ring on a washed-up local club DJ who’
s been with the entire male population of Newcastle.’

  ‘Mate, you forgot female population, too.’ Lauren laughs. ‘Christ, when did I ever even say I wanted to be marriage material? You are so fookin’ pathetic.’

  ‘Mr Anonymous wants you to be marriage material more than you do,’ Jackie replies.

  ‘Yeah, I know. DAVID DICKSON needs to learn how to handle rejection better!’ she shouts at the camera.

  A gong sounds on the TV.

  ‘Ladies and lads,’ Adam says as he stands up and walks to the stage, ‘a round of applause for the exes, please!’

  Behind him, Amy sees Jamie turn to the others and shake their hands. He’s giving them his business card. Tosser.

  ‘And of course, a big round of applause for our six brave contestants. Selfish Jackie! Distant Gemma! Bitter Kathy! Desperate Amy! Boring Hattie! And last but not least, Easy Lauren! Welcome on board this life-changing journey to better yourselves! After the ad break, we’ll be taking a tour of the house and showing you what our girls have in store for the next four weeks.’

  It’s getting hard to hear Adam over the cheers. He takes a few steps closer to the camera until his face fills the screen, as if he’s talking to just them.

  ‘Aren’t you girls lucky?’ he whispers, and winks.

  Seven

  @jaydenrom Jackie – 4. Amy – 7. Hattie – 3. Gemma – 10. Lauren – 6. Kathy – 2. #theshelf

  @beckyblack_12 See y’all in 4 weeks. #theshelf is LIFE! #bestnewshow

  @bigbennoj What a bunch of whingers. No thanks #Iwouldnt #theshelf

  @yourmatemike I’ll grab a Gemma and Amy sandwich to go please #theshelf

  The comments feed cuts off and Adam’s back on screen, standing in front of what looks like a model of the house.

  ‘Welcome back to The Shelf, everybody! Now, in front of me is a model replica of house. You’ve got the Chat Room, where housemates can reveal all their secrets and feelings, and secret feelings …’

  He pauses as the audience cry ‘Ooooohh!’

  ‘… Then you have the fancy AF dining room, with more than enough chairs for our contestants to eat, drink and dance on top of into the wee hours.’

  Adam starts vossi-bopping. At least, that’s what Amy thinks he’s trying to do. The audience crack up and a few stand up to join him. It’s a cringeworthy few seconds that Amy hopes she’ll never have to witness again. He stops abruptly and points his finger back to the model.

  ‘In the corner we have the Therapy Room, where our celebrity therapist will be guiding our girls through their spiritual, emotional and physical journey of relationship enlightenment. Now let’s move on to the kitchen, my favourite room in the house. This giant fridge will have a regular supply of all the essentials and, my favourite feature of all, this prosecco tap!’ He gawks at the lens as he gestures towards a feature in the corner of the kitchen that Amy thought was just decorative.

  ‘The fridge will also be packed full of healthy stuff to make sure our girls get their five-a-day. We wouldn’t want them piling on the pounds while they’re in there, would we now?’ He wags his finger at the lens. ‘And to make sure that doesn’t happen, here’s our state-of-the-art gym! Notice that it’s right next to the kitchen. Perhaps it’ll make them think twice when they open that fridge door!’

  ‘Twat,’ says Jackie.

  ‘Mostly the girls will make their meals themselves. But they’ll deserve nights off, too. So they can also win takeaways on some of our special challenges, in partnership with our friends at Foodfix. But they’ll only get special treats if they’ve been very good girls!’ He laughs and points his finger at the camera again. ‘And ladies, Hattie, if you do have any dietary requirements, I’m sure we can accommodate.’

  Hattie looks at the others and shrugs.

  ‘Why the fook did I agree to this?’ says Lauren under her breath.

  ‘Let’s move on to the garden!’ shouts Adam, before anyone has time to answer.

  ‘Feast your eyes on our cosy après-ski chalet and sizzling Tiki bar, where things could get seriously heated in due course. And if they do, then a dip in the long pool will be just what the doctor ordered! And girls, a stern reminder that you’re under surveillance out here, courtesy of the all-seeing eyes of our trusty Gnome Patrol!’

  The camera zooms in and out on replica gnomes on the table, before Adam grabs one and throws it into the audience. A group of them scramble to fetch it.

  Gemma shakes her shoulders. ‘Those gnomes are well creepy, the way their eyes follow you around.’

  ‘Their eyes are camera lenses,’ Amy replies.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Gemma whispers.

  ‘Let’s head into the living room!’ shouts Adam, moving around the table. ‘Now, there are a few things you should know about this living room. One, there’s a giant television. They’re gonna be living a life of luxury, I tell you. But we aren’t here to watch them just Netflix and chill. This TV is for the girls to watch my ugly mug chat with guests on our live shows, and of course introduce our challenges. But it also has another very special purpose.’

  He walks up to the camera and mists up the glass with his breath.

  ‘Ew,’ says Amy. ‘I don’t remember him being this irritating on Celebrity Thumb Wars.’

  ‘The TV will also run a live commentary feed called The Wall. The Wall will keep our girls updated on what the world thinks of them, twenty-four-seven! So, you’d better behave in there, ladies!’

  Text runs along the bottom of the screen, giving details of how to comment and what to hashtag.

  Amy dreads what they’ll target. Her nostrils? Her eyebrows? Eyebrow, if she gets lazy. How normal and boring she is? All of the above? She makes an unlikely promise to herself that she won’t look at any more comments unless she has to.

  Adam beckons the camera with his fingers into the model bedroom and bathroom, and describes how there are eight single beds and a bathroom, which has no cameras or mics. The crowd boo.

  ‘Why do you want to watch us take a shit? Sickos,’ says Gemma.

  ‘Why are there eight beds when there are only …’ Hattie nods her head around the group. ‘Six of us?’

  ‘Probably thought they’d get two more to stay,’ says Jackie, with a shrug.

  ‘What? You mean someone refused to take part?’ Lauren replies. ‘Shockin’.’

  ‘And now for the important part,’ Adam continues. ‘What the girls can do to win this freakin’ thing and be crowned The Keeper for the first time in history!’

  The crowd cheer as he moves over to a screen, which lists a set of instructions for the next four weeks.

  ‘Hush up and listen closely, peeps. First, our housemates will have regular sessions with our show therapist, who’ll help them identify their problem areas and create positive change to steer them back on course. They’ll also undertake weekly challenges, where the public will rate them on their performance. The housemate with the highest rating wins the challenge and gets a prize for themselves or for the house. Finally, they have a few mystery dates lined up along the way. The public will rate them on their style, behaviour and charm – just a few of the things we’ll be watching out for.’ He grins. ‘Don’t go away – we’ll be back right after this ad break.’

  The screen pauses on a close-up of the instructions.

  How to Win The Shelf!

  Embrace your therapy sessions for positive life changes!

  Throw yourself into the challenges and learn how to love!

  Welcome your mystery dates! You’ll be surprised what they’ll teach you!

  Smile for the viewers! They have the power to keep you in!

  ‘Ladies,’ says Jackie quietly, as she gets up and stands in front of the TV. ‘We did choose to stay on here, so it’s not like we can complain about it now. But we could play the game a little differently to how they want us to. We could challenge every challenge, point out the blatant sexism and tell the audience how wrong this all is. They can’t stop us from doing that.
They can’t fire us – otherwise they won’t have a show. But we’d have to be in it together.’

  ‘They could just choose not to vote for us, though, couldn’t they?’ Hattie asks.

  ‘But that’s up to the audience, not the producers. As long as we don’t break the rules, we’ll stay. And then we just need to get the audience on our side. I mean, surely everyone can see how terrible this show is? Getting them on our side won’t be that hard, will it?’

  They don’t have time to answer.

  ‘Everything all right in there, ladies?’ calls Adam, looking into the camera.

  The housemates nod in unison and wave at the cameras.

  ‘Lovely stuff. Now, let’s talk about the most important part of the show! The votes! Every week, the public vote to keep their favourite contestant in. The contestant with the fewest votes is booted off. And that brings me nicely on to another fancy gadget we have in the house – The Tracker! Girls, please make your way to the dining room.’

  The audience murmur.

  As they drag their heels next door, the TV screen in the dining room flickers on. The Tracker looks like a league table. Amy can’t help but feel a little relieved that she’s in the middle. Gemma’s at the top, which isn’t surprising. Lauren’s coming last, which is a surprise. Amy thought she’d be a hit.

  ‘The Tracker shows the girls how they’re being rated by the public at any point in time. It’s a continuous feed, which gives the girls a steer on how their behaviour is being judged. It can detect positive and negative emotions. It’s very clever.’

  ‘Unlike you, you wally,’ Jackie mumbles.

  ‘If the public think a girl is being bossy, for example, not naming names’ – he coughs an audible Jackie and the audience crack up – ‘the Tracker will identify those negative feelings online. That will probably take them down a notch.’

  Jackie shakes her head.

  ‘If they’re being sweet, that’ll probably give them a boost. The Tracker helps make each of the girls aware of how they’re acting, and is a handy reminder to keep their attitudes in check. Don’t say we don’t have your back, ladies!