by Kiki Archer
“How do they decide?”
Camila adjusted her position on the sofa. It was nice to be able to clarify everything in her head one final time. Plus she’d not seen Julie all week and was pleased she’d opted for the interested questioning approach instead of the sulky left out approach as was often her style when Camila did things without her. For example, Julie was never fully interested in the weekends away Camila had with her sister Polly and her nieces and nephews, or the times Camila decorated a room in her house without using any of Julie’s people or products; but Julie didn’t do it to be intentionally mean, she just loved being at the centre of everything. Camila smiled. “You get to vote, Julie. You get to decide. Yes, there’s a panel of judges, but there’s also a viewers’ phone-in that’s taken into account.”
Julie groaned far too dramatically. “God! Like Strictly Come Dancing then? That’s always a bloody fix. Some votes from the public and some from the judges and nobody knows who scored what or why.”
“Voting opens as soon as tonight’s show starts.”
Julie groaned again. “So it’s just a reality show then?”
“It’s not. It’s a business competition.”
“But there’ll be people playing the sympathy card and others playing the fauxmance card.”
“What do you mean the fauxmance card?”
“To get votes.” Julie nodded. “Now get the door, that was the bell.”
Hauling herself from her seat, Camila shouted to her children. “Five minutes, it’s starting.” She heard Michael’s grunt of recognition first. He’d been in his room with Cassie, no further development in their hush-hush behaviour even though she’d tried to corner them both at different intervals during the week. It was feasible that the two teenagers could sense she didn’t actually have time to talk at the moment even though she was professing the importance of taking time to listen and not judge, but neither had opened up. Just like Ethan, also upstairs on his technology, but definitely not messaging boys, because even though her conversation with him was short it was also crystal clear. She’d started off by sitting him down and telling him she was involved with Harriet in a romantic capacity, to which he’d replied: “Kinda gross, but kinda cool.” She’d then latched onto this, following up with: “Just like it’s cool if you want to start dating boys or girls, whatever’s your fancy.” To which he’d simply replied: “As if.” Now whether that as if was about dating boys or dating in general she didn’t know, but at least her youngest son was still at that: “I hate girls, and maybe even boys too, stage.” It was fine, she had reasoned. Ethan wasn’t the priority right now. The priority was the show.
Pulling open the door, Camila was looking forward to seeing Harriet’s smiling face. Everything had been fine over the past few days: they’d been bogged down by work with very little time to address the love issue. Harriet had simply apologised and told Lydia to take out the footage before declaring she’d wait as long as she needed for Camila’s feelings to catch up. Camila had known in that instant that it wasn’t about her feelings having to catch up, it was about her feelings having to slow down and classify themselves, order themselves in a way, because her head and her heart were all over the place, a swirling mess of confusion.
“We brought Lambrini!” wailed Debbie from two doors down, her impotent husband, Roy, standing behind her. “We got it free with the curry we had last Wednesday, didn’t we, Roy?” she continued, bustling her way into the house. “One of Julie’s deals. She told us if we spent twenty pounds at Dildishad we’d get a free bottle. I bet you like Dildishad, don’t you, Camila. Hey, Roy, do you get it? Dildi-shad? Dildo-shad!”
“Debbie, my children are home.”
“Julie told me you’d told them. Come on, Roy, what are you doing standing there? Your legs stopped working as well, have they? He does have his issues, doesn’t he, my Roy?”
The man spoke up. “We’ve not been invited in yet.”
“Julie invited us! Party at the TV star’s house!”
“I’m not on tonight’s show.”
“It’s fine, we’re coming round tomorrow night as well and Julie says we can watch the final from here too.”
Camila didn’t react even though her houseful was meant to consist of her children, Harriet and Julie; not Debbie, and not Debbie’s impotent husband and their plastic bottle of Lambrini from the dildo-shack.
Following the couple into the lounge, Camila turned as the bell rang again, smiling instantly at the thought of Harriet. It was like this, she had found, any downers she experienced were made instantly better by Harriet. Her neighbours from two doors down gatecrashed her house party, Harriet’s presence made it better. The focus group gave her a hard time, Harriet’s discreet hand squeeze made it better. Deana took the huff because she wasn’t given a presenting task in the live shows, Harriet’s public reasoning and justification in front of the team made it better. That’s why she hadn’t risen to her neighbour’s intrusion, or let it get to her that Julie had taken over the evening plans. Harriet was coming and that was all that mattered.
“Harriet,” she said, before realising it was actually a very pretty young man standing on her doorstep.
“Stereotypical.”
“Pardon?”
“Stereotypical.”
“I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?” Camila heard the racing of feet behind her before feeling the rush of air that had come down the stairs like a wind tunnel.
“Harry!” gasped her youngest son. “Come in! This is my mum. Ignore her, she’s going through some stuff.”
“I’m not going through anything thank you very much.”
“Debatable,” continued Ethan, before pulling his friend into the house. “We’re watching it in the lounge so you’ll have to excuse my mum’s weird friends, but her girlfriend, the star of the show, she’s coming too which is quite cool.”
“Sister,” nodded the pretty boy towards Camila.
Camila frowned. Who the hell was this? She looked at her son’s enthused face before noticing that his hands were technology-free. “You’re more than welcome,” she said with a smile before peering out of the front door, hoping for a glimpse of the person who could bring calm to her being. She stayed in the doorway for a minute or two. It was strange how Harriet could do that, calm her but at the same time excite her and make her nervous. Harriet could give her butterflies and fluster her, but when they were together it was as if a serene tranquility descended upon her, making everything feel just perfect. It felt right when they were together. Weird, but right. Sighing, she closed the door and shouted once more up the stairs. “Michael, Cassie, it’s starting.”
“We’ve just come down,” came the deep voice from the lounge.
Camila tutted at herself. She’d found this happening more often too, drifting off into a daydream, unaware of her surroundings, and it had been at least ten years since the boys had been able to come down the stairs without her hearing the school pictures rattling.
“It’s starting, Mum,” said her eldest once more.
Camila walked through to the lounge. Every single sofa seat was taken and there was barely any floor space left either. “I’ll get a chair from the kitchen,” she said with a nod.
“That’s the door,” shouted Julie once more, her pink dressing gown and sofa sprawl putting her right in the centre of everything. “Can’t get up, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” said Camila, not wanting anyone else to greet her girlfriend. She smiled. That’s what Ethan had just called Harriet. Her girlfriend, and it had sounded so natural coming from her son’s mouth… which was actually one of the strangest things ever. Everyone seemed to be so cool with it apart from her. But was she actually cool with it? Or was she at least becoming cooler? Maybe on an ice cube level she was currently a snow cone, firmer and cooler than a slushee, but not quite block of ice like yet. “Harrie—” she started, before noticing the blue uniform and blue cap.
“Dominos delivery,” sai
d the man.
Camila looked at the tall pile of boxes before widening her arms as they were thrust her way. “Do I need to pay for this?”
“You paid on the app. Have a great evening.”
Camila tried to nod over the top of her arm-full before staggering into the lounge. “Go and close the front door, please,” she said to Ethan before passing the pile of pizza boxes to Julie.
“I can’t, I’m squashed in with Harry.”
Camila looked at the pretty young man who was indeed sitting very close to her son. “I’ll do it,” she said.
“Plates too,” ordered Julie. “Food’s up, everyone, this is on me.”
Camila almost fell over. She’d assumed Julie had asked one of the boys for her Just Eat login as Julie never paid for anything, certainly not real brand pizza. “Thanks, Julie,” she said, genuinely meaning it. Looking around the room, Camila smiled. Yes, this wasn’t planned and, yes, the person she really wanted to be here hadn’t arrived yet, but this felt warm and fun and she felt special.
“Can I have a glass for my Lambrini?” asked Debbie.
“Grab me and Cassie a can of pop too, would you, Mum?”
“I only drink water,” said Harry. “It’s good for the skin.”
“I’ll have a water too then,” said her youngest who’d never requested a plain water in his life before.
“Sorry and I need the loo,” apologised Roy, trying to make his way through the melee without treading on anyone.
“She can’t bloody do that for you too!” wailed Julie.
“You might have to hold it though,” laughed Debbie. “It’s so limp it almost shoots backwards.”
Camila coughed. “Roy, would you like—”
“No I bloody wouldn’t! I’m fine and will you keep your bloody mouth shut, Debbie.”
Camila coughed again. “I was going to ask if you wanted some wine.”
“He can’t,” continued Debbie, “it’s a cause of his—”
“AND WE’RE ON!” said Camila loudly, pointing at the television before nipping to the kitchen for drinks, plates and chairs. She sat down just in time to see the end of the opening credits. Harriet’s face flashed up with her full name glittering underneath. Smiling with pride, Camila couldn’t help but wish Harriet were here.
****
The first episode really had been fantastic so far. Usually when she was watching something with Julie, Julie would talk the whole way through, but tonight Julie had been glued to the screen, just like Ethan who would often gravitate back to his technology and Michael who would reach for his dumbbells and start lifting those instead of watching the show. The fact there wasn’t enough space for that didn’t matter as everyone in the room had been hooked. The programme was really well polished and slick and there wasn’t too much repetition which was often the case in real life documentary and reality shows: ‘Earlier in the show we met, Sheila, struggling with her weight.’ Or: ‘Let’s go back and find out how David’s wound is healing, here’s a reminder of what happened to David.’ It was as if programme makers had suddenly become very lazy, repeating footage under the guise of a recap that had been shown only ten minutes earlier. Or maybe they felt their audience were stupid and had forgotten about Sheila’s sixty stone frame or David’s anal fissure. Either way the programme makers of Budding Businesses had got it spot on, maybe because they predicted the viewing audience was slightly more intelligent if they were interested in the topic of business, or maybe it was simply because of the huge amount of footage that had to fit into the two one-hour shows because that’s all the three months had boiled down to: Three months’ worth of fly-on-the-wall footage from four different businesses condensed into two hours; there obviously wasn’t room for any of those annoying recaps.
Camila smiled. Harriet’s segment was about to come on. The show had started with all four entrepreneurs in the same room as the rules of the competition were outlined. There had been some friendly banter between them all which set the tone for the programme. Here were four people who’d already been successful, fighting for the ultimate entrepreneur crown. The show had then focused on Barry Maddison from Maddison Computers, whose new business was a shopping app that searched clothing stores a bit like USwitch or GoCompare searched for insurance, or OnTheBeach searched for holidays, but instead, a search for “black dress” gave you all the black dresses currently on sale in the UK. Cassie had immediately tutted at the idea, saying you’d never sift through that many dresses, but as Barry’s segment was finishing up popped a glimpse of tomorrow night’s episode and someone on his team said exactly the same thing and the problem looked like it would be solved.
Oliver James from the restaurant chain had been up next introducing his new paleo snack café. He intended to rival the likes of Starbucks and Costa with healthy paleo snacks instead of muffins and cakes, but the majority of his segment was spent debating whether or not there was an actual call for such a place. It was a bit like a vegan café. It might work in the centre of London but the notion of franchising it to places like Doncaster or Copeland in Cumbria where the obesity rates were the highest in the UK seemed rather ridiculous. Oliver James, however, was insisting it was places like these where his café was needed the most. Camila had felt it was a bit like trying to serve fruit in a fish and chip shop, but then the snap shot to tomorrow night’s programme came on showing a pop up paleo café in both of these cities with lots of customer’s crowded around the counter. Michael had instantly said they must have been giving the food away for free, and that paleo food tasted like sawdust anyway and he should know as he’d tried everything that was meant to be healthy.
Next up was Jill Masters from Jill’s Gyms. She was starting up a new cosmetics treatment spa where instead of going for a weekend of massages and pool relaxation you went for a weekend of Botox and fillers. The whole spa day theme was the same with robes and slippers, but instead of swimming in a pool, you’d relax in a snug as your face recovered from the needles or your legs recovered from the lipo. Julie had thought it a good idea as had Debbie, both declaring it the new place for hen parties and birthday treats, the only issue being the cost as addressed in the segment. But everyone in the room had gasped when the snapshot to tomorrow night’s show was shown with official looking people in suits advising Jill on the legalities of running such a place without actual doctors present, and if actual doctors were to be employed the whole cost of the business would skyrocket.
“If they can get that ironed out, they’ve won,” announced Julie.
“Ironed out like those faces,” added Debbie. “Did you see those women?”
Cassie spoke up. “It only takes a one-day course to become a qualified Botox practitioner. We learnt about it in our ethics class. It has to be prescribed by a doctor, nurse or dentist, but anyone can train up to give the actual injection.”
“You can’t train up to give lipo though, can you?” said Julie. “And what else are they going to offer at this cosmetics spa? It’s looking too similar to the stuff that’s already out there, if you ask me.”
“We’ll find out more tomorrow,” said Camila, “and then on the live show I’m sure they’ll have full details of all the treatments available. Basically by Sunday night we need to present our up-and-running businesses. Remember this was all filmed ages ago. They’ll have solved all these issues by now.”
“Is yours up and running?” asked Debbie, biting into another slice of pizza, having already guzzled all of the spicy meatball one after reminding Roy spicy food was a trigger for his issues, and moving onto Cassie’s margarita leftovers which Roy was also not allowed.
“Watch and see, we’re on now,” said Camila. It was strange hearing Harriet talk about their business before she’d even met her, because that’s what it felt like, their business. It was their baby. Hers and Harriet’s. They were the ones presenting together on Sunday and, yes, while Brett and Geoff would be doing a bit of talking it was her and Harriet running the show: it was their presen
tation. Deana had been tasked with making sure all the other elements ran smoothly, the television advert they’d taken it upon themselves to make, the website that would showcase their site, the actual live footage from the new business base that had actual real live workers ready to complete the process of idea conception to product creation once people’s ideas started to roll in… and Camila honestly believed the ideas would roll in once viewers could see how the Technology Box had developed. She smiled. Harriet was being endearing on the screen, not rising to the interviewer’s questions about why she was involved in the programme, simply saying you can rest when you’re dead. Camila smiled again. That’s probably where Harriet was now: not dead, but tied up with some other interview or one of her other businesses because she never stopped and it was something she wouldn’t want to change about her. This was Harriet. This determined, focused, tenacious, head strong woman holding court on the screen was her Harriet.
“She’s blown you out then,” announced Debbie. “Julie said she’d be here. It’s the only reason I came round. I wanted a selfie with her.”
“You came for the bloody pizza,” said Julie.
“Shush!” said Camila, wanting to pay full attention to the section of the H.I.Pvention story she hadn’t been privy to. Deana and Harriet were with a couple of other people she didn’t recognise thrashing out business ideas and it was revealed that H.I.Pvention was actually Deana’s brainwave. Yes, the group had reached the conclusion together, but Deana had been the first to suggest a business for individual inventors. Camila felt guilty. No wonder Deana had felt completely hijacked by her sudden arrival, not to mention the way she was being hailed as the hero. Trying to re-focus, Camila watched as Brett and Geoff were introduced, hand-picked from H.I.P Marketing for the skill sets they could offer the new business. What was fascinating was all the footage from outside of the floor five work space showing a team of people searching for suitable business premises, another team building the website, a team of lawyers working on the legalities of the business and the contracts the inventors would have to sign, and it was like Harriet had said, they didn’t need an actual invention to show that this was a good business model.