by Helly Acton
‘Isn’t that worse, though? When you don’t even realise that you’re saying something wrong? And her apologies are always way over the top. When you say sorry a million times, it isn’t because you’re sorry for what you did to them, it’s because you want to get rid of the guilt. I just think she’s setting a really bad example. You’ve seen what her fans are like on The Wall. Literally the world’s worst type of people.’ She walks out, leaving Amy alone to think about the riddle that is Flick.
Jackie might have a point. Sometimes Flick can be a bit too much with the gestures, the food, the endless offers of tea. And Kathy snapped at Flick again for her repeated apologies. ‘Bloody hell, stop smothering me, I’m fine!’
There are times when Amy wants to grab Flick by the shoulders in a fury and shake the hateful views right out of her. At other times, she feels desperately sorry for Flick and flummoxed by her fixation for Simon’s approval. Flick is smart. Doctor-smart. She’s a bloody paediatrician! How can she genuinely believe that a husband’s needs are more important than a child’s? It’s like he’s poisoned her, and all her toxic views on marriage, relationships and appearance are the symptoms of someone very sick. Whatever the root of the evil, it’s horrifying that she has so much support. Since her arrival just five days ago, The Wall has become a bleak breeding ground for racists, sexists and bigots to stick their heads out of their dank Internet corners. Many comments quote Flick out of context and give her words a more sinister meaning than Amy thinks she’s intended.
Or at least hopes.
Amy’s scrubbing the bathroom with bleach from top to bottom to relieve her stress at the prospect of being evicted tonight. She’s found several hairballs, two false nails, a thong and enough hairgrips to start an eBay shop. Even those didn’t make her feel as nauseous as tonight’s show does.
‘Excuse me, Amy!’ cries Flick as she almost trips over her, turns on the tap and splashes her face with water. She starts crying into the sink.
‘Are you OK?’ Amy stands up, not sure how to comfort her. Is Flick a hugger? She gives her a little rub on the back to test the waters.
Flick spins round. Her cheek looks like it’s never seen a tear in its life. How does her skin remain so perfect, with such a contorted face? Annoying. But Amy soon switches from irritation to pity when she sees Flick’s eyes brimming with tears. When Amy reaches out for a hug, Flick drops all her weight onto Amy’s left shoulder. All eight stone of her.
‘What’s happened?’ Amy mumbles into her ear.
‘I’ve been made the mascot of some awful white male supremacist group, Amy! They’ve put my face on a bloody T-shirt like Che Guevara! I haven’t even been here a week!’
Amy struggles not to laugh at how ridiculous the visual is in her head of Flick wearing a beret on a T-shirt with a fist in the air. Maybe she’s in a bonnet with a feather duster.
‘They can’t do that, Flick. Maybe you could make a statement saying you don’t support their views, and perhaps ask the producers if there’s anything you can do to stop them. Or Jackie might know – she’s a lawyer.’
‘Jackie hates me. Everyone does. If I’m not pissing you lot off, I’m pissing half the public off because they think I hate women.’ She sniffs. ‘I wish I’d never come on here – this was such a stupid idea. Simon and I were perfectly happy the way things were. Why did I have to go and rock the boat?’
‘Well, maybe wanting to rock the boat is a sign you weren’t as happy as you thought you were.’
Flick stares at the floor for a while.
‘Thanks for cleaning the bathroom.’ She smiles as she walks out, lifting her head up. ‘It looks great. I really appreciate it.’
There’s one hour left until the live eviction, and the housemates are dressed up and sitting in the dining room, glued to The Tracker.
Day 12
1. Gemma
2. Jackie
3. Flick
4. Amy
5. Lauren
6. Kathy
7. Hattie
‘Housemates, please make your way to the living room. The eviction will begin in fifteen minutes.’
Messages on The Wall are flying in so fast that it’s almost impossible to read them before they disappear off the bottom of the screen. Amy’s nerves start to swell. The middle isn’t the safe zone. She hates to think how Kathy and Hattie are feeling right now. Kathy, who has the chance to make it on her own for once. Who has nowhere to go because her husband and his girlfriend have taken over the house. And then there’s Hattie, who is desperate to reinvent herself and learn how to live without Dylan. Who’s become quietly dependent on the rest of the housemates for friendship, love and support. How is she going to cope on the outside, alone?
@larnimarni Kathy is too old for this show. Time to go #dontvotekathy #theshelf
@superwomanly Hattie is so unhealthy-looking. She shouldn’t be on TV #dontvotehattie #theshelf
@jkraze WTF was Gemma wearing last night? Slag! #dontvotegemma #theshelf
‘This is exciting,’ says Flick, sitting down on the far side of the sofa.
‘Flick,’ says Jackie, handing out a round of proseccos, ‘we’re saying goodbye to someone tonight. I know emotional intelligence doesn’t come naturally to you, but try to be a bit more sensitive, yeah?’
Flick catches Amy’s eye and looks down. Amy’s about to ask Jackie to steady on with the punches, but she’s interrupted.
‘Good evening, housemates!’ shouts Adam Andrews into the camera, as a make-up artist applies the final touches to his face. ‘It’s 7 p.m. and you know what that means …’
A siren screams and the camera pans out to reveal Adam in his dressing room. His hair is gelled back and he’s wearing a glitter tuxedo.
‘It’s The Shelf’s first ever live eviction!’ he bellows. The show’s theme tune starts pumping as he runs out of the changing room, with the cameraman running closely behind. In the studio corridors, he puts his hands up to high-five the runners who are standing back.
‘Oooh, there’s Sam!’ says Flick. ‘He told me I had a really good shot at winning.’
‘Same,’ says Jackie immediately.
Adam jumps off the stage and runs up the stairs through the audience, who are going berserk. The camera continues to follow him out the back door and into the studio car park, where he lifts his arms to greet thousands of people gathered outside.
‘Fuck me,’ mutters Jackie.
Amy can’t believe what she’s seeing. How did this show, a show no one had ever heard of two weeks ago, manage to get so many fans so fast? She sweeps the living room and sees that everyone else is in shock, too. The placards reflect the mixed sentiments. And some make more sense than others.
WHAT THE FLICK?
KATHY THE COUGAR!
HATTIE’S GONNA HATE!
Amy isn’t sure what the last one meant and, by the puzzled look on Hattie’s face, she isn’t either.
‘Welcome again, everyone, to our first live eviction!’ Adam screams as fireworks start crackling across the sky. They’re audible from the TV and the garden, which doubles the volume and Amy’s heart rate.
‘Well, lads,’ shouts Lauren at the group. ‘This is really fookin’ happening, isn’t it? We’ll be all right,’ she says, patting Hattie on the shoulder.
Amy presses her fingers to her ears as she watches Adam kick a sign next to him saying ADAM’S A PLANK, then run back into the studio and down the aisle. He jumps onto his chair in front of three guests sitting opposite him on the sofa.
‘Tonight is the night we’ve all been waiting for,’ he says to the camera. ‘The first night we give one of the housemates the old heave-ho. With me tonight is a group of our biggest celebrity fans, who are here to place their bets on who’ll be the first housemate to face the boot.’ He kicks his leg in the air.
The camera pans over to the first guest, Archie Martucci, a former presenter on Rags to Riches, a reality show where contestants had to live on the street for a month to win a ca
sh prize. The show had been cancelled last year when one of the contestants went AWOL. Archie gives a thumbs up to the camera.
‘Did they ever find that bloke who went missing?’ asks Jackie.
The housemates shrug.
The next celebrity guest is Sonia Cole, who blows a kiss to the audience. She’s a former Page Three girl turned PR machine who released a tell-all book last year about her numerous affairs with Members of Parliament.
‘Ugh, I can’t stand her,’ mutters Flick. ‘Such trash.’
The final guest is a familiar face. It’s Katie Carroway from Beauty School Squad, who’s dyed her hair bright blue for the occasion.
‘OK, celebrities, I’m going to ask each one of you who you think is heading off tonight, and why. Archie, go!’
‘Well, Adam,’ Archie says in a slow and nasal monotone, ‘it’s got to be Hattie. Who else can it be? She’s been at rock bottom since the show began. Hippo just isn’t a hit with the viewers. Sad, really. I don’t mind her.’
Lauren grabs Hattie’s hand and squeezes it. ‘He’s just a D-lister who’s desperate for airtime.’
‘He’s talking bollocks, Hattie, don’t believe it,’ adds Gemma.
Adam moves on. ‘How about you, Coley, what’s your prediction for tonight’s show?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Amy got dropped,’ Sonia says in a gravelly voice. ‘And I wouldn’t care either.’
Amy’s heart sinks.
‘Ooh! Controversial! What makes you think that?’ asks Adam.
‘Because she’s drop-dead boring! The viewers want to watch a show, not a dead slug! Sorry, love, no hard feelings. I think you’re nice, but nice doesn’t win.’
Amy glances to The Tracker, terrified she’ll have dropped to bottom place. But she hasn’t dropped – weirdly, she’s moved up one place.
‘I have to disagree with Sonia,’ says Katie. ‘I think the fact that Amy isn’t getting involved in too many dramas makes her extremely likeable. What’s wrong with wanting someone normal on there?’
‘I want tears, bitch-slaps and hair-pulling,’ Sonia replies. ‘That’s good TV. Save the long talks and political debates for Question Time. Yawn!’
The audience cheer and laugh.
Katie looks disgusted. ‘So, you want a show that makes women look like emotional train wrecks?’
‘Bit dramatic,’ intervenes Adam. ‘OK, Katie, if you’re voting to save Amy, who’s on your leave list?’
‘It has to be Flick.’
‘You were all over Flick the other day during glam time!’ Adam cries out.
‘I don’t dislike her, I just don’t understand why she’s here. She’s in a relationship. She doesn’t need to learn how to be in one. She can’t have her cake and eat it.’
The audience burst into cries of ‘Ooooohh’.
Flick sighs. ‘I didn’t force them to put me on here. They phoned me.’
‘OK,’ Adam continues, ‘so you want Flick to go, but who do you think will go tonight?’
‘Hattie, of course,’ she says. ‘Poor kitten hasn’t got a cat’s chance in hell of being saved by these viewers.’
‘All right, all right, all right,’ Adam says, turning back to the camera. ‘We’ve got two-to-one on Hattie leaving the house tonight, but we aren’t quite ready to cut her cord yet, folks. Because we have one last, very special guest, that we’re saving a spot for on the sofa. He knows her better than anyone else …’
‘Oh nooooo!’ Hattie starts fretting. ‘They can’t bring Dylan out, can they?’
‘Babes!’ Gemma replies. ‘He’s long gone, don’t worry.’
‘Welcome to the stage for the second time, our very own Dr Howard Hicks!’
Hattie exhales.
The audience cheer as Dr Hicks does an awkward half walk, half run towards the sofa and lowers himself down, smiling and waving at the audience.
‘So, Doctor Howard,’ Adam asks him in a serious tone, ‘we don’t have much time. What I would like to find out is what you think the emotional impact of this rejection will be on our first loser. How do you think someone like Hattie will handle it?’
‘Well,’ coughs Dr Hicks, ‘don’t forget that Hattie’s exit isn’t a sure thing. The Tracker in the dining room is simply a social media listening tool. It’s an automated system with an algorithm that tracks whether the housemates are being talked about positively or negatively. It’s not always accurate. For example, the system can’t detect sarcasm. If I was to say “Yeah, sure Hattie is going to stay”,’ he says in a dramatically sarcastic voice, ‘then the computer will pick that up as me saying I’m sure Hattie is going to stay. Not the opposite, which is what I mean.’
Adam stares at him blankly and the audience are silent. Someone sneezes.
‘So you think Hattie will get the fewest votes tonight?’ Adam asks.
‘No, that’s not what I was saying at all,’ Dr Hicks responds. ‘I’m saying don’t trust The Tracker. It isn’t that accurate.’
‘OK, gotcha!’ shouts Adam, mouthing Whaaaa? at the audience, who all laugh. ‘So back to my original question: how will the evictee feel?’
‘Well, how would you feel, Adam?’ Dr Hicks asks him.
‘Really embarrassed, to be honest. I’d want to crawl into a hole and die quietly,’ he says, laughing.
‘Well, yes, maybe. The housemate that leaves in the first eviction will feel a mix of emotions. At first, they will feel humiliated that they’ve been rejected. Then they’ll experience a surge of delight as they think about being free to enter the outside world and reunite with their family and friends. Then, when they see the crowds that have gathered outside, they’ll feel a rush of trepidation swiftly followed by excitement as they’re cheered on.’ He smiles. ‘They went in as nobodies and they’re leaving as household names. Their faces will be recognised by thousands around the country. They certainly won’t be able to pop to the shops for a pint of milk in their slippers anymore.’
‘But what if the crowd boos, not cheers?’ asks Adam.
‘Well, I suppose they might boo, yes,’ says Dr Hicks.
‘Oh no, oh no, oh no!’ cries Hattie quietly.
‘People who boo are probably just unhappy,’ Jackie tells her.
‘OK, thank you to all my guests!’ cries Adam, with his finger on his earpiece. ‘I’m being told we’re just thirty seconds away from the big reveal and the final votes are being counted and verified as we speak. Who will the public decide to save? Who will be the first to leave The Shelf after almost a fortnight of making new friends, soul-searching with our star therapist, getting a celebrity makeover and so much more?’
A countdown timer appears on the big screen behind him and he ushers his guests to stand up and hold hands like they’re seeing in the new year.
5 …
4 …
3 …
2 …
1 …
The housemates scream and explosions go off everywhere, with so much glitter filling the screen that they can’t see who has been voted off for several long and painful seconds.
‘Who the fuck is it?’ screams Gemma.
The glitter falls like a curtain.
Kathy.
They clasp their hands to their mouths and Amy shoots her head round to The Tracker. Dr Hicks was right. Hattie is still at the bottom, but Kathy got the fewest votes.
‘I can’t believe it! Kathy!’ gasps Amy, grabbing her hand. ‘No one’s said a bad word about you!’ she says.
‘Kathy, you have five minutes to pack your bags and leave the house.’
The housemates all gather to console Kathy on the sofa, as she rubs her face with her hand.
‘Don’t cry, Kath, just think about it. You’re free!’ Lauren says, grabbing her in a bear hug and squeezing her tight.
After a few seconds in Lauren’s arms, Kathy stands back to reveal a broad smile on her face.
‘I know! I’m delighted to be getting out of here!’ She beams as she stands up from her seat. ‘I
knew I’d never win this show at my age, and I never really cared about getting to the end. I just wanted the experience, and to start a new life. And I’ve got all of that in just twelve days!’
‘I’m free!’ she shouts as she walks to the bedroom. When she reappears with her suitcase, she’s grinning. ‘Sure, I won’t be leaving with a million pounds, but ten thousand is enough of a leg-up.’
The housemates say their goodbyes as they watch her roll her suitcase towards the steel front door, with the GO button glowing green for the first time. She turns round as she reaches the exit and waves. And with a slam of the door, Kathy is gone.
Nineteen
‘Zerz beeble nn ze gardol,’ mumbles Hattie by the glass doors.
‘You OK there, Hat?’ Amy replies absent-mindedly from the sofa. She’s engrossed in an argument on The Wall about who’d win in a fight, Gemma or Jackie, and whether women should have six-packs or not. All she can do to defend them is yell at the screen like a screaming banshee. She hasn’t got used to life with no phone. She still reaches into her back pocket when she sits down. She still reaches over to feel for it on her side table every morning. She’s coping better than Gemma, who’s developed a nervous habit of scrolling her palm with her forefinger.
‘Come again, love?’ Lauren shouts from the sofa. ‘Maybe without the cheese sarnie in your chops.’
There’s a loud gulp.
‘There are people in the garden,’ Hattie repeats.
Amy and the others turn round on the sofas.
‘What’s going on in the garden?’ Gemma asks, breathless after a session on the treadmill that nobody else touches.
‘Is something happening?’ asks Flick, entering from the bedroom in a face mask.
They line up along the window. Jackie taps the glass, but the runners continue to scurry without looking up, putting down old-fashioned wooden desks and chairs.
‘It looks like they’re setting up a classroom,’ Amy comments.