by Ali Ahearn
Even though it nearly killed her, she ended her speech by acknowledging Takahiro’s obsession with honour, and telling those assembled that she hoped she and Joni had always played the game with honour. She sure as hell knew they wouldn’t have left their opponents in the dire circumstances in which they’d been left and Kazuki at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.
When Frances finished, she sat back on the log, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious and smoothing the ever-present creases in her cargo pants. She’d never made a two-hundred-thousand-pound speech before in anything other than immaculate clothes and there was a lot riding on the outcome of this one.
There was a second of hush as the little crowd looked at her in awe. Then Nick began slowly, deliberately applauding and all the ex-contestants joined in.
‘That was amazing, Frankie,’ Joni whispered. Frances blushed.
‘Interesting that both teams should mention honour,’ Darryl said, as he rose again to take centre stage.
Frances watched him catch Sally’s eye and saw her nod, almost imperceptibly. She then observed Lex glance sharply at the assistant director and say something to her that didn’t look like an exchange about the weather. Frances felt as if a tropical spider web – those big suckers that could wrap up a small bird – had just brushed down her back.
Uh oh.
‘You obviously think this will win you votes with your fellow contestants,’ Darryl continued. ‘But when both of you behaved with considerable dishonour during the game, we have to wonder what you’re talking about. Kazuki! Takahiro! Stand, please.’
For once, Darryl’s voice cracked with authority, and the Japanese men, even the older of them, responded in kind, leaping to their feet as if they’d been struck with a cattle prod.
‘What exactly do you have to say about this?’
The sisters’ eyes swivelled to the screen. Frances had to admit the footage of Takahiro hiding behind a nearby tree as his injured team mate called for help during the paintball challenge was exceedingly damning. The grab of him shooting a defenceless Joni right between the eyes after she’d helped Kazuki was even more so. She chanced a glance at the little Japanese samurai.
He looked ready to pull his dagger from his waistband and slash the screen in two.
‘Fuck you, sucker,’ Joni crowed, her purple bruise glowing in the firelight.
But then it was their turn. And, somehow, Frances just knew what was going to appear on that screen next.
‘Frances! Joni!’
And then everyone was watching the snogging scene by the waterhole, and Cheryl’s gasp rang around the clearing, like bloody great chimes of doom.
Joni leaned forward. ‘Way to go, Frankie,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got some serious tongue going on there.’
Frances almost laughed despite the situation. ‘You’re supposed to be horrified. We could lose.’
Joni shook her head. ‘Some kisses are worth two hundred grand.’
Frances looked away from her sister’s bruised head to the screen, as the kiss continued in all its glory.
When had Joni gotten so wise?
She risked a glance at Nick, who gave her one of his surreptitious winks.
The image paused and the screen went blank. Joni and Frances took their seats.
‘So,’ Darryl intoned, addressing the banished members of the cast. ‘If you thought you were swayed by the speeches – think again. In a moment, you will get to cast your vote. But we have one last surprise in store.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Joni muttered. ‘The only thing they have left up their sleeves is blowing the entire island to smithereens!’
‘A mystery guest,’ Darryl announced, and gestured several times in the manner of a magician, before indicating with a flourish the closed flap of the editing tent.
‘Oh, who now?’ Frances whispered to Joni. ‘Have they got some shepherds, three wise men and the baby Jesus hidden somewhere?’
Or maybe Jamie and Jules were finally going to step out?
The tent flap twitched and then, out into the dank, loamy night stepped Edward.
Both the sisters were speechless for a minute.
‘No,’ Joni said, finally recovering. ‘But they do have the Antichrist.’
‘Please, join us,’ Darryl invited, as if he were greeting a newborn king. ‘Frances, Joni; please rise.’
Frances rose shakily to her feet, her heart hammering, as Edward, looking cool and oh-so-London suited, stepped into the light of the fireplace. Joni joined her and they linked hands.
What the fuck?
Frances glanced again at Nick. If he was remotely concerned at the presence of her legal husband, he showed no signs. In fact, he still looked like he wanted to tear her clothes off with his teeth. But somehow, with both their exes (one actual and one not yet informed of his new status) right there, she felt decidedly icky.
‘Edward,’ Darryl interrupted her chaotic thoughts, ‘you and Frances are married. Correct?’
Edward nodded. He turned to Frances.
‘Hello, Frannie,’ he murmured, stepping forward, grasping her upper arms and lowering his mouth for a kiss.
His greeting, his touch, his audacity, left Frances cold and she turned her face at the last moment so that his lips landed on her chin. After a full-blown reminder of the best kiss she’d ever had and the nearby presence of the man who had given it to her, she didn’t want to be tainted by mediocrity.
Awkwardness lay between them and Edward turned away.
Darryl came to their rescue. ‘Joni and Frances have come a long way on Endurance Island. They came here a month ago, totally estranged. They leave here much closer than they’ve been in years. But what they need is true closure.’
Joni slid Frances a questioning look and Frances gave her a slight shrug. She glanced at The Stapler and the assistant director’s look of anticipation twisted her gut.
Uh oh!
‘Edward, I believe you have something to share with Frances and Joni,’ Darryl prompted.
Edward nodded. He turned to face the sisters. ‘In aid of full disclosure –’
Frances tensed. She didn’t know what was coming but knew it wouldn’t be good. Edward always spoke like a lawyer when he was about to tell an unpleasant truth. He seemed somehow to think the legalese would soften the blow, make him the hero of the piece because he was just fulfilling his legal obligations.
What the fuck had she ever seen in him?
‘– Ms Staples contacted me last week –’
Frances didn’t bother to mask her dislike as she glared across the fire at The Stapler. Lex was frowning down at Sally too.
What had she done?
‘– she made me see, Frannie, that you and Joni have mended fences. I know we’re going through a rough patch at the moment and she helped me to see –’
Made me see. Helped me to see. Frances knew in that instant that money had changed hands. Sally, the brains of the piece, had figured out early that cash talked, especially to someone with a weakness for horseflesh. How much had Sally offered him?
‘– that to mend our fences, I needed to own my part in all this. Frannie –’
He reached for her hand and she let him take it, too preoccupied with what he was about to say to even acknowledge his hold.
‘– I think you need to know … you both need to know …’
He looked at Joni for the first time and then back at Frances.
‘That night … the hens’ night … Frannie, I’m sorry but … it was me. I kissed Joni, not the other way round.’
Frances stared at him, watching his mouth, hearing the words in slow motion. Joni’s gasp came to her on a delayed loop. She turned her head and saw shock mingling with a single tear rolling down her sister’s face.
She looked back at Edward, her hand limp in his.
‘What? You what? What did you say?’
Edward gave her a sheepish grimace. ‘I came on to her. She … she didn’t want it. Sh
e tried to push me away.’
Seconds passed. The entire island held its breath. Even the incessant insects shut up as if in respectful silence for something long lost.
Edward spoke again. ‘Look, I was young and stupid. And a little drunk. It was my stag night, for God’s sake. It was a long time ago, Frannie. We were kids.’
A pain in Frances’s chest flared to life.
‘Frannie?’ Edward prompted. ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’
Frances looked around her. At Lizzie, who had her hand over her mouth. At Nick, who was grim-faced and looking like he wanted to mince Edward up and use him as sheep food. At Sally, whose look of glee sickened her.
‘Frannie?’
Frances snatched her hand away as her other one came up to rub her chest.
It burned; oh, how it burned.
She wanted to ask him to take it back. To deny it. To admit he was just saying it for the money. But she couldn’t because she knew with absolute clarity that he was telling the truth. His motives were definitely far from pure but Frances had no doubt his words were one hundred percent accurate. She’d always known when he was telling the truth and when he was lying. He might have been able to fool a courtroom but she’d been a different prospect. Just like, deep down, she’d always known that his denials of affairs were lies as well. She’d just never had the guts to face it.
Oh God! Had she known this to be a lie too?
No!
This, she’d never suspected. How could she?
Undiluted anger surged like bile into her mouth.
‘You took my … sister,’ Frances said, shaking her head, still grasping at understanding. She felt hot all over and ill. Like she was going to vomit her Christmas feast all over the jungle floor. ‘My … little sister.’
She looked around again, bewildered. She looked at Joni’s tear-streaked face and rubbed her chest even harder.
‘Why?’ she demanded of her sister. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Joni wiped a tear from her face. ‘Would you have believed me?’
Frances reeled, as if Joni’s quietly spoken, misery-laden words had been a stinging slap to her face. Oh God, what had she done? She could feel her composure beginning to crumble as her vision narrowed to just the three of them. Nobody else existed for her but the three of them – not the cameras, not the other contestants, not the crew.
She turned back to Edward.
‘I … believed you.’ Her voice shook. ‘And you … you took my Joni from me.’
‘Frannie –’
‘Don’t,’ she yelled, jabbing her finger into his chest. ‘Don’t.’ Poke. ‘Frannie.’ Poke. ‘Me.’ Poke.
Edward held his arms up in surrender. ‘Please, Frances. I love you. I want to try again. Let’s be reasonable.’
‘Reasonable?’ Her voice broke and a hot tear squeezed out. ‘You took my heart.’
Edward rolled his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘For me.’ This time, he poked his own chest. ‘It was supposed to belong to me.’
Frances sucked in a sob. It was the first time she truly realised the breadth of Edward’s egocentricity. He’d been jealous of her relationship with Joni since the beginning, had always disparaged her. Had discouraged their bond constantly.
And she’d let him. She shook her head at him as she realised something else.
‘It always belonged to Joni.’
Joni’s muted sob clawed at her.
Edward shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting from one sister to the other.
‘Okay. Okay. It was wrong of me. I know that now. Please, can you just forgive me and we can move on?’
Frances almost laughed but feared it would sound so maniacal, she’d be committed the minute she stepped back into Old Blighty.
‘Forgive you?’ she asked incredulously.
He shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the preternatural quiet that had descended around him. It was as if even the cicadas were judging him.
‘I can forgive you the snog in the jungle with the colonial farm boy if you can forgive me this.’ He reached for her hand again, his mouth tightening as she snatched it away. ‘Please, I love you, Frannie. We can work this out.’
Frances shook her head, more hot tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘You took something from me that’s a loss I can’t even measure. I loved her and you let me cut her from my life.’ She scrubbed at her face with the heels of her palms. ‘There’s nothing on earth that can measure it.’
Her face crumpled as the true enormity of his deception hit her hard.
All those lost years. The years she’d wondered and yearned and mourned. She looked at Joni staring back at her mutely. Her baby sister, who she’d abandoned to an existence of living on the edge. More tears welled in Frances’s eyes and she turned back to Edward.
‘You know, I can almost forgive you for the other women and for gambling away all our money but …’ a block of emotion threatened to choke her and she cleared her throat. ‘As long as I draw breath, I will never forgive you for taking Joni from me.’
She turned to Joni. ‘I’m sorry. I …’
What? What could she possibly say to make up for this injustice?
Joni nodded her head. ‘It’s okay.’
‘No,’ Frances said, her voice wobbling. ‘It’s not.’
Joni gave her sister a quick hug. ‘It will be. Now.’
‘Alllrightyyyyyy.’ Darryl, prompted by an imperious head jerk from Sally, leaped into the space. He grinned broadly at the sisters – even he’d recognised they’d just created television gold. ‘Everyone take their seats. It’s time to vote.’
Frances didn’t move. It wasn’t until Joni grabbed her arms and guided her backwards that she even realised Darryl had spoken. She felt the hard bite of the log against her backside as she wiped at her face. She didn’t want to do this now. She felt woozy, like the world had tilted; like the island was actually rocking beneath her feet.
She wanted to talk to Joni. To beg her forgiveness.
She wanted to stand Edward on a trapdoor and pull the switch.
She wanted Nick.
But the vote waited for no man and, within minutes, the banished contestants were writing on rectangular white cards the names of the team they felt most deserved to win. Endurance Island’s insects serenaded them. The jungle drums joined in, beating an ominous tattoo. Then Darryl was asking each contestant to reveal their vote and share their reasons for it with the viewers.
It all passed in a blur for a still-shocked Frances.
Until it came down to the last vote.
Three votes had been cast in Frances’s and Joni’s favour – Colm, Daragh and Nick. Four in Takahiro and Kazuki’s – Kandy, Misty, Consuela and Paolo.
‘The final vote falls to Cheryl,’ Darryl announced.
That really got Frances’s attention.
‘If she votes for the Heiresses, the vote will be split,’ he continued. ‘But, according to the rules, they’ll still win, as they’ve won more challenges over the course of the competition than their opponents have.’
‘Oh, fuck, we’re toast,’ Joni murmured.
Frances wanted to reassure Joni they’d been promised Cheryl’s vote. That Cheryl’s grandfather’s blood, sweat and tears on Kokoda – wherever the hell that was – had worked in their favour. But that had been before the kiss.
‘Cheryl?’ Darryl intoned.
Joni squeezed Frances’s hand hard as Cheryl flipped over her card to reveal that, in the end, female jealousy had trumped some World War Two grudge.
‘Fuck,’ Frances sighed. She and Joni sat on their log, unmoving, as general pandemonium broke out. Takahiro and Kazuki leaped to their feet.
Takahiro turned to them and Frances waited for one of his triumphant bellows. Instead, he bowed from the waist. And, finally, she saw the honour in him. She realised that Takahiro’s addiction was to winning; that losing was not an option.
She bowed back.
And then he was sw
ept up as his wife rushed forward and the moment passed. Soon, the two men were surrounded by supporters lining up to congratulate them.
Frances looked at her sister as people milled around the victors. ‘I’m sorry, Joni.’
Joni shrugged. ‘Fuck ’em. We have a million pounds – we don’t need it.’
‘I’m not talking about the money.’
‘Oh.’
Frances didn’t know how she was ever going to make amends.
‘He was my husband, Joni, I loved him.’
Joni looked at her with blistering frankness. ‘I’m your sister, Frances. I’ve loved you since before I was born.’
Frances whimpered, biting her lip, nodding. It was true. She had no argument for the enduring depth of their bond. Or how she’d carelessly thrown it away. ‘How can you ever forgive me?’
Joni sighed. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, Frankie. I was pretty messed up that night and it was such an ugly scene. It was so dark and he was saying those horrible things … and you wouldn’t listen to me …’
She stopped.
‘And then my life just got messier and, the truth is, over the years, the whole incident has become so blurred. I even gave up listening to myself.’
Frances sucked in a breath. She cupped her sister’s face, not being able to bear the uncertainty of her expression, her words, even after Edward’s confession.
‘He lied, Joni.’
Joni nodded. ‘Dirty toerag.’
Frances laughed then and hugged Joni to her. For the first time since they’d been forced together at G’s reading, she really, truly felt that she and Joni were going to be okay.
‘Frankie? Joni?’
The sisters broke apart, and looked up to find Kandy and Misty hovering uncertainly. Frances stood – from this angle, Kandy’s breasts looked like they were capable of feeding every starving child in Africa and, after a month without moisturising cream, manicures and waxing, she, Frances, already felt less of a woman. Joni followed suit.
‘We’re so sorry,’ Misty said, twisting her hands. ‘We just wanted to be fair.’