The Shelf

by Helly Acton

  ‘I’m sure you do. What she’s wearing, what she’s saying, what she’s revealing, where she isn’t going.’

  ‘Exactly. When she isn’t on the show, she wears a collar with a tracking chip in it. I gave it to her on her birthday.’

  Amy glares at him.

  ‘I’m joking, I don’t need to know where she is. Like I said, she’s handcuffed to the oven.’ He smiles, raising his eyebrows in the same way Jamie used to. My God, he is Jamie! He’s Jamie in twenty years. Although Jamie wouldn’t have said that cheesy line about getting more beautiful every day. The best Amy got was a wolf whistle. Never words.

  Amy shifts her chair back and goes to stand up. She can’t do this anymore.

  ‘Sit down, Amy. Give me a chance. Don’t you want to hear my side? I was only joking. Can’t you take a joke? Flick thinks I’m funny. I do miss her, you know. You might not understand our relationship, but we are very happy together. It works for us, having Flick at home and me at the surgery. You’ve spoken to her about it – you know she’s happy. So why do I get the impression I’m in the doghouse with you? Why are you sitting there staring at me with such animosity? I don’t understand what I’ve done that’s making you so uncomfortable.’ He tilts his head and trails his eyes from the top of her forehead to the tip of her chin. Like Jamie used to.

  Amy avoids his eyes and looks down at her glass. ‘I just feel sorry for Flick. All those years spent in training, just to give up? She says she’s happy, but if she is, why is she here trying to improve herself? For you, of course. Why don’t you just ask her to marry you? You know that’s all she wants. She’s desperate to get married and have children. If you love her so much, why are you denying her her happiness and forcing her to jump through these ridiculous hoops?’

  ‘Amy, I’ve been married before and I have two children already. I don’t want to do it again. What Flick and I have is perfect. It’s so much better than when I was married. Why would she want to change what’s working?’

  ‘Maybe because the truth is she doesn’t think it’s working. How can it be working when you want entirely different things? Have you been clear with her about all this, or are you just leading her on until she’s too old to have kids?’

  ‘The marriage and kids thing is a phase. She never used to want marriage and kids. It’s just because she’s getting older and she’s worried she’s going to have regrets. I’ve assured her she won’t. Kids put a huge strain on relationships. It did with my ex-wife, and we never recovered from it. There were other reasons, too. She worked full-time and wouldn’t compromise. She was jealous of my friendship with Flick when I started at the surgery. And that turned into paranoia. She was crazy. Flick’s not crazy. Flick is perfect, just the way she is.’

  ‘Well, Simon, half the population must be mad. All ex-girlfriends are crazy, according to you lot. I’m sure Jamie’s telling people I’m crazy, too.’

  Amy thinks of Jamie’s interview. Just like Simon, he was too spineless to admit that she was normal. He had to say she was crazy to avoid any blame and admit he was at fault.

  ‘Amy, the truth is that I’m too old to have more children. That stage in my life has passed, and I’m delighted it has. I’m fifty-five, and I just want to enjoy our lives together, without anyone getting in the way. And yes, let’s be honest, Flick is no spring chicken either.’

  ‘Oh my God, she’s only thirty-four!’ cries Amy.

  He snorts and looks confused. ‘Flick isn’t thirty-four.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Flick’s forty-two. Good God, is the Botox I give her that good? Anyway, men her age might say she’s past her sell-by date. But not me. I adore her. See, Amy, we’re actually the perfect match. She’s too old to have children and I’m too old to want them. We’re lucky that we found each other at this stage of our lives.’

  Amy’s heart bleeds when she flashes back to all the times Flick’s mentioned marriage, babies, children and the daughter she wouldn’t allow out wearing a short, tight dress.

  The daughter she might never have.

  Thirty-Two

  Dawn is Amy’s favourite time of day in here. It’s the only time she has to think in peace and quiet, as she watches the stillness outside through the steam of a fresh hot tea.

  Finding solitude has been one of Amy’s biggest struggles in the house. Sometimes she finds it lying on the bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling with no cameras or housemates in sight. But it’s never lasted longer than five minutes. Someone always needs the loo in here. Her love for alone time is one of the reasons she’s been getting up earlier these past few days. No one’s watching. Or at least, that’s what she thinks as she leans against the counter blowing across the top of her mug.

  A shadow moves in her peripheral vision, but when she looks up there’s no one there. It’s only 5.15 a.m.; she’d be surprised if another housemate was up already.

  ‘Hello?’ she says quietly as she switches on the kettle for a refill. There’s no response as the water starts to boil loudly.

  She tiptoes to the kitchen door and bumps into Flick on the other side.

  ‘God, you gave me a fright!’ Amy whispers, and laughs.

  ‘Sorry.’ Flick smiles. ‘I did reply, but I don’t think you heard me over the kettle.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Amy says. ‘Tea?’

  Flick nods as she takes a seat on an island stool.

  Amy wants to talk about last night. She wants to find out why Flick is wasting her time in a hopeless relationship, as handsome as Simon may be. She also wants to find out why Flick felt the need to lie about her age, but she needs to use tact. Flick is going to feel humiliated when she realises that Simon’s exposed her real age on TV and that she’s been fibbing.

  ‘So, how was Simon? I was desperate to ask you last night, but knew you’d be feeling tired. I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Simon was …’

  Arrogant, chauvinistic, never going to give you children.

  ‘Chatty.’

  ‘Sounds like him.’ Flick smiles and sips her tea, adulation in her eyes.

  Come ON, Flick.

  ‘Remind me how you two met?’

  ‘At the surgery. Typical office scandal, dating the boss.’

  Amy smiles. ‘Did you get a promotion out of it at least?’

  ‘You mean, did he get a promotion out of it at least.’ Flick gives a wry smile. ‘I hired him. I was the boss, not the other way around.’

  Amy is floored. How did she miss that? Neither Simon nor Flick had mentioned it. And how could their relationship have gone through such a U-turn?

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others you assumed the man was the boss. I’m sure you only thought that because of our age difference, didn’t you?’

  ‘Thirteen years is quite a lot,’ Amy says, hoping she’ll pick it up. She does.

  ‘Twenty.’

  ‘Flick.’ Amy leans over and lowers her voice. ‘Simon told me you’re forty-two, not thirty-four. Is that true? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t need to hide your age from us – we weren’t going to judge you.’

  Flick turns red. ‘Please don’t tell the others,’ she says under her breath. ‘They’ll think I’m awful.’

  ‘I won’t tell them. But I can’t guarantee the millions who are watching can keep a secret. It’s on TV, Flick. Lots of people probably know by now. It might be better for you to tell them yourself, or it will look worse. Besides, who cares? So what if you’re eight years older? Women feel pressured to lie about their age all the time. I’m sure half the population will completely relate.’

  ‘I only said I was thirty-four because I didn’t want you all to feel sorry for me. Unmarried and childless at forty-two! I get enough pressure about it out there.’ She sighs, nodding her head at the garden wall. ‘At least in here I can pretend I have more time. And let’s face it, forty-two-year-olds aren’t exactly keepers, are they? There’s no chance of me winning the show now.’

  ‘
Of course they are! Flick, we’re all in the same boat. If we felt sorry for you, we’d also have to feel sorry for ourselves. And that sounds miserable. We should all support each other. When I came on here, I was terrified about being single and running out of time. If I’d known you were feeling the same way, we could have vented our frustrations together. Misery loves company, and all that. You talk about Simon so much, I just assumed you were happy and everything was fine.’

  ‘Amy, you’re only thirty-two. I wasn’t like this when I was thirty-two. I thought I had loads of time then, because I did. When Simon and I got together, I was thirty-eight. I was so busy running the practice I never had time to meet anyone. And then he came along and promised me the world. He promised me he was getting a divorce so that we could get married. He got the divorce, but he stopped talking about us getting married. Two years went by and still no sign of progress. I stopped asking about it. I was sick of sounding desperate and needy. But when I reached forty, I really started to worry. Then I began to feel like there must be something wrong with me. Why wouldn’t he want to marry me? I’ve been willing to sacrifice so much for him. I gave up work, I handed him the keys to the practice. I’m a stay-at-home wife and mum in everything but name. But doubt got the better of me, and I thought perhaps coming on here would make me irresistible.’

  ‘Flick, you are irresistible. You’re already perfect. Why him?’

  ‘Well, I’m not perfect, am I? Simon sees past my age. He doesn’t think I’m washed up like other men would if I were single. They hear forty-two and it’s alarm bells in their head. It’s either alarm bells because there must be something wrong with me to be single at this age, or because I must be desperate to have kids because of my age. Truth is, they’re right. I’m not going to pretend I don’t anymore, just so men think I’m easy-going; I want to get married, I want to have children. But I’ve made poor life choices, and I’ve let time pass me by. I came on here to change that. I really believe Simon will realise how great our relationship is and will agree to marry me and have more children. I am happy with Simon. I don’t want to find anyone else. Besides, it’s too late for me to start again, anyway.’

  I know the feeling.

  ‘Flick, men would be lining up if you were single. Especially after the show.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to say, Amy, but we both know that’s not true. My dating days are over. Single women over forty like me just disappear. Men my age want a younger model. Younger men want to laugh about dating a cougar with their friends. And older men have already done the marriage and kids thing. They can’t be bothered. What choice do I have?’

  ‘Flick, you want marriage and kids, don’t you? Simon doesn’t. He told me that. So why stay? You’ve got a better shot at those things with someone else.’

  ‘But this show is going to help me persuade him. And the alternative is much worse. If it weren’t for Simon, I’d be single at forty-two and alone. Forever. I wasted my thirties focusing on my career, without thinking of my personal life. Then one day I blinked and realised that if I didn’t start thinking about it now, it might never happen for me. Simon rescued me.’

  Rescued, or trapped? Amy wonders.

  Thirty-Three

  Dooong.

  The four of them pause mid-chew and look at each other across the dining room table. There’s been no warning of visitors, challenges or tasks this morning. And the only comments on The Wall have been men and women telling Flick that she’s in ‘great nick’ for her age and telling her to leave Simon.

  Amy puts her spoon down and gets up to answer the door. A postman is standing on the other side with a handful of letters.

  ‘Housemates, please go to the living room with your letters from home.’

  The rest of them scream, abandon their breakfasts and take their teas to the sofa where the screen switches on.

  ‘Good morning, housemates! Have we got a treat in store for you, and for us! Now that we’re in the last week of the show, we thought it was high time you heard from home. We’ve asked your nearest and dearest to touch base, and we can’t wait to hear what they have to say. Will it be words of encouragement? Will it be good news from beyond the walls? Take your letters, take your seats, take a box of tissues and clear those throats, ladies. I have a feeling we’re about to get teary.’

  The audience ooh as Adam takes his seat.

  Amy can feel her hands go clammy around her envelope as she clutches it tightly, wondering who it’s from. She’s relieved it isn’t too thick because she doubts she’ll last one minute. She feels like she could cry now. Flick passes round the box of tissues as they all look apprehensively at each other.

  ‘I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing,’ says Jackie, laughing nervously. ‘If this is a letter from Dad, I might be tempted to walk out that door right now.’

  ‘I’ve been trying not to think about my family while I’m in here,’ says Gemma, quietly. ‘It makes me feel too sad. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks, it’s not like a lifetime. But I just feel like I’m so far away from everyone.’

  ‘Ladies, what’s with the sad faces?’ Adam shouts. ‘This is a celebration! A reminder of who’s waiting for you on the other side! I want to see smiles and tears of joy! Right, who wants to go first? No volunteers? Well, I guess I’ll just pick one myself. Amy! Gemma, would you do the honours, please?’

  Amy hands Gemma the envelope and takes a seat. The moment Gemma opens it, she knows it’s from Sarah. She knows that handwriting as well as she knows her own. During uni holidays, they used to write each other letters, despite being just an hour away. It’s a good thing. Sarah’s message won’t be gushy, it’ll be funny and uplifting, which is exactly what she needs right now. Had it been from her mum, she might have collapsed on the floor at the first word.

  Gemma coughs and starts to read out in a serious voice that doesn’t quite match the content. Amy sits still with her eyes closed and her hands shaking.

  AMY!

  HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

  Amy smiles. It’s definitely her.

  I can’t believe you’re doing this, it is totally bananas. I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, but I really do now that you’re a celebrity. When can you introduce me to Daniel Craig?

  So, Jamie’s a complete dickhead, isn’t he? He was on the front page of Metro this morning, so I stole all the copies I walked past and put them in the recycling bin at work. I told your parents to do the same. I’ve got chronic backache now, but it was worth it.

  The lump in Amy’s throat is hard, but so is her laugh.

  Revenge and kidding aside, I am so proud of you, Ames. I can’t imagine how hard this has all been for you, but you are handling it like the legend you are. Brave, honest and just fucking real. It’s like you’re shedding all those long-term relationship layers you’ve built up over the last two years, and we’re finally starting to see the true you again. Stop crying.

  The laugh has gone and her lip starts to wobble. Flick moves closer and puts her arm around her. It’s sweet, but if she squeezes, Amy will lose it.

  Squeeze.

  Amy grabs a tissue to stop a tear streaming down her cheek and puts it against her mouth, exhaling hard into the paper while she tries to blink away her tears. A few seconds pass and she manages to compose herself.

  This might be the sappiest thing I’ve ever said, but I love you and I miss you! Screaming, talking, pointing and laughing at you on the telly isn’t the same as doing it across the table. My neighbours must think I’ve got an imaginary friend or a passionate secret lover.

  Amy, I am so happy that you’re finally doing something for yourself and putting your happiness first. You’ve put them on pause for too long. I know you’re going to achieve amazing things, and this is just the beginning of your incredible, unique, daring and exciting journey. Keep on being you. It’s got you this far, and I know it’ll take you to the final. And at the end, I’ll be watching from the other side with your mum and dad, cheerin
g you on so loudly you’ll be too embarrassed to admit you know me.

  Sarah xox

  PS Is Dr Hicks single? Can you put in a good word?

  PPS Be brave and breathe. You only have a week to go.

  Amy laughs and wipes her eyes as she takes the letter from Gemma and thinks of Sarah watching her now. She looks up at the camera and blows her a kiss.

  ‘Oh deary me, I’m not crying, you’re crying!’ Adam pretends to wail, ruining the mood. ‘Flick, are you ready to read Jackie’s letter?’

  Flick takes Jackie’s letter and sits up straight.

  My dearest Jackie,

  I am so proud of you, my brilliant girl. I have always been proud of you. I raised you to fear nothing and to stand up for what is fair and you have never let me down. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a strong, smart and beautiful daughter.

  Jackie’s eyes don’t shift from her feet. ‘God, strong? More like pathetic. Come on, Jackie, have a cup of concrete.’ She laughs nervously, her voice wobbling.

  ‘You OK for me to carry on?’ Flick asks.

  Jackie nods, looking down at her feet again.

  I miss your visits, but I am so happy that I can see you on the television every day. I’m so happy you are spending time looking after yourself for once, instead of always looking after me. I love your visits, but I want you to have a life for yourself, too.

  My friends at church have put up a poster of you in the hall and sometimes we watch the show together on the community projector. They want to have a Welcome Home party for when you come back. It has been a difficult year for us, my girl, but good things come to good people and God has exciting plans for you. Remember, I will support every path you choose to take.

  My heart was singing when I saw you laugh with your friends at the tea party. It made me laugh, too. I have not seen you laugh like that since you were at school. No matter how big you get, you will always be my little girl, laughing until the tears fall from her eyes. All I want from life is for my little girl to be happy. And also maybe for you to not drink or swear too much, because that is not very Christian.