Chapter 24
As soon as Porscha hands me back the microphone pack and leaves, I burst into tears. I smother the microphone to disguise my noisy sobs.
I feel powerless.
My tears are barely dry when I hear an almighty commotion outside. Everyone seems to be arguing with everyone else.
I wipe my face with a nearby tea towel and step cautiously outside.
All the Islanders are shouting while the two girls and two boys in the throes of being dumped on national TV drag their cases to the giant heart archway.
They are being forced to go back the way they came, minus the huge hopeful smiles they arrived with.
Amber looks distraught. Mimi looks bewildered, while Kassy and Binky are forcing smiles onto their tear-streaked faces as though they have clearly been ordered to battle through it.
‘Everyone calm the fuck down,’ bellows Porscha. ‘I think you’re all forgetting this is a game. A fun game to win one hundred thousand dollars. ONE. HUNDRED. THOUSAND. FREAKING. DOLLARS. Can we all remember that, please?’
There’s a fresh burst of tears from Kassy. ‘I wanted to win so much.’
‘And you still might,’ Porscha says, an evil tilt at the corner of her lips threatening to lift that tight smile of hers. Binky and Kassy brighten almost immediately, throwing her an optimistic look. ‘It’s a game,’ Porscha repeats. ‘Anything could happen.’
We all take a moment to digest this new information.
‘Is she saying they will all come back to the villa?’ whispers Amber to me.
‘I hope so,’ I whisper back. ‘I really hope so.’
The mood instantly lifts. The boys start high-fiving and ‘bro-ing’ like mad. Suddenly we are air-kissing, and we are lifelong survivors, in it together like Squid Game or World War Two.
‘We’ll never forget you. Hope to see you very soon!’ Binky is yelling forcefully over her shoulder. ‘I’ve had the best time ever. Let’s keep in touch. Best friends for life.’
‘Me too,’ croaks Kassy. She’s done so much angry yelling and screaming that her voice is knackered. ‘It’s been the greatest time of my entire life. I’m so sad to leave you all but at the same time I’m so happy. I miss my…’
We wait for her to think of something.
‘I really miss my dog.’
This provides a much-needed excuse for us to ooh and aah and console her and request that she gives her pooch big hugs from us, because even though we all know she doesn’t own a pet, we would want it to know we care if she did.
She gives me a hard look on the way out, which pinches at my conscience.
‘See you soon,’ she says almost under her breath. ‘I know what I saw.’
Another stab to my conscience.
We wave them all off and look in bafflement at one another as the remaining six of us make our way back to the firepit. None of us know what is happening.
‘So, who is ready for their romantic date?’ bellows Destiny, emerging suddenly from behind a bush, causing Mimi to scream with fright.
The warm breeze lifts Destiny’s fringe, like the flaps on a Boeing 747, to give us a rare glimpse of what lies beneath.
She is looking wild-eyed and positively coked up to the eyeballs.
It is very clear that we’d all forgotten she was still here, and that we will be required to do more filming.
My soul droops at the thought of going on a date.
Henri looks over at me with an almost apologetic smile and shrugs his shoulders.
‘Are the four Islanders who just left really out out or will they be coming back in in?’ I ask Destiny, who looks expressionlessly back with a nonchalant shrug.
‘Firepit!’ Porscha yells.
We gather round the firepit so that Destiny can bring some energy to our flat and demoralised demeanour. ‘Islanders. You three couples will be happy to know that your dates will be voted on by the public.’
This is news to us.
‘And the couple voted to have the most chemistry during the date will spend a saucy night in the Romantic Hideaway. YAAAS!’ Destiny yells, encouraging us to get excited and start waving our arms around as we sit there.
My mind switches instantly to panic mode while the cheering goes on around me.
This is the same Romantic Hideaway that Cam showed me on the virtual tour.
The room with walls and floor covered in fur for maximum comfort, whichever way you choose to have sex, upside down or back to front.
The room with the love swing hanging from the ceiling and the suggestive objets d’art placed on the bubble-gum-pink shelves.
The room with the sex toy cupboard where Cam hid a massive blue rubber vibrator with flat batteries because he was too busy having fun with me, and forgot to replace them.
Right, I have a game plan. And the game plan is to have the worst date humanly possible, resulting in the fewest public votes.
Henri turns to look at me with his shyly confident smile and whispers, ‘Zee French make zee best lovairs. I will make sure we win.’ He taps the side of his nose.
Not on my watch we won’t. He seems to have made a remarkable recovery from his emotional goodbye with Kassy a mere few minutes ago.
We are glued to Destiny as she reveals what type of date we are going on. ‘We asked the public what type of dinner date they wanted to send you all on. They had to choose between a romantic three-course candlelit dinner al fresco on the beach…’
We all cheer.
‘Or a romantic picnic by torchlight in the wild beating heart of the Yucatán jungle…’
We let out a less enthusiastic cheer.
‘Or a romantic time potholing down a nearby haunted mineshaft with a packed lunch and a bag of crisps.’
Silence. And plenty of it.
‘And the public voted for…’ She touches her earpiece and proceeds to stand, staring into space for a count of ten seconds, rather like a robot powering down.
We are all quite spooked when she jerks back to life and reveals where we are going.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, we are dragging ourselves back to the main villa. Morale is at an all-time low.
‘The public must really hate you,’ says Mimi, giving me a sympathetic look.
‘Or they hate all of us,’ I say, trying to counter the argument. ‘What makes you think it’s just me?’
She stops to put a hand on her hip, tilting her head. ‘Purleese, girl. You’ve done nothing but get people dumped from the villa since you got here and you’ve, like, stolen every man you can get your hands on.’
‘Not true,’ I say. ‘Besides, the public might be genuinely interested in Mayan industrial history.’
‘At least we won’t get eaten by tigers,’ says Amber, trying to look on the bright side. ‘I’m not sure I could cope in the jungle when it’s dark. I hate the dark so much.’
The thought of my recent trek into the jungle with Cam makes me smile. ‘Wrong continent. Right terrain,’ I say, almost to myself. ‘Although, I’m fairly certain it will be even darker down the pothole.’
Amber bursts into tears. ‘I can’t do this. I’m off to the Beach Hut to tell the world about my darkness phobia.’
Mimi tuts. ‘How convenient. I have a fear of rope, but do you hear me bleating on about it?’
It takes all of five seconds before she runs after Amber.
‘Amber, honey. Babe. I’m here for you. Let’s do the Hut together.’
I stare after them.
Porscha will make extra sure that I won’t be seeing Cam while I am in the villa.
My heart droops at the thought. He is the only thing about being here that sparks joy.
Everyone in here, with their flip-flopping allegiances, seems to have a hidden agenda and would gladly throw me under a bus to win the one-hundred-thousand-dollar prize money.
When Amber and Mimi return from currying favour with the public, we go to the dressing room to take our make-up off and discuss the shock of tonight’s events.
‘I think we’ll see them again. And even if we don’t, then I’m sure they’ll have a great time on the outside,’ mulls Mimi. ‘I bet they come back in as Casa girls. Maybe the boys will come back in too, but to be honest they didn’t exactly rock my world. I can’t even remember their names.’
I shake my head in despair.
‘Giovanni told me that he heard Carlton telling Henri that he was going to say that he’s open to having conversations with all three of us.
He doesn’t want to tie himself to one girl as it is still early days,’ Amber says as she wipes off her heavy foundation and bright pink lip gloss.
She looks innocently over to Mimi. ‘I think it’s only fair that I talk to him if he pulls me for a chat. ’
‘Girl, why would you say that to me? You know I have my eyes on Giovanni and Carlton.’
‘Hold on, girl. You can’t claim all the guys and expect us not to give them a chance. Carlton is clearly not into you. He made a strategic decision.’
I’m immediately suspicious. It would be just like Porscha to force us girls into a war over the boys.
‘For your information, Carlton told me that he wants us to be coupled up because he is sick of Libby leading him on and then dumping him at the last minute. I wouldn’t call that strategic, would you?’
‘That is literally the very definition of strategic. Isn’t it, Libby?’ says Amber.
‘Divide and conquer, they call it,’ I say.
They eye me dubiously.
‘What is?’ Amber says, looking a bit guilty.
‘What we’re doing. They have us bickering like schoolchildren when really what we need to do is learn to trust each other and unite against them.’
Amber stops vigorously moisturising and Mimi puts down her face wipes, as the penny drops.
‘What’s the plan?’ Amber asks, coming in close.
‘I say we sleep in separate beds tonight. Make a point. If those boys think they can play us for fools, they have another think coming.’
I hold my breath and wait to see how this idea lands. I will do anything not to share a bed with Henri.
‘Agreed,’ says Amber.
‘Totally,’ says Mimi. ‘Although I might start off in bed with Carlton, touch his wiener and then when he gets excited, I will sneak off to the spare bed. I might even give him a full hand job just to make sure he picks me to couple up with.’
What is she not getting?
‘No. That’s not what we’re trying to do. In fact, it’s the opposite of what we are trying to do, Mimi,’ I say sternly. ‘Do not give Carlton or anyone else a hand job. We are trying to play it cool so that they know we are not to be manipulated.’
Mimi looks disappointed. ‘Okay, then.’ She stands up to reveal that she is wearing a highly provocative, skimpy black lace negligée with cut-out bits and a balcony bra that is all but throwing her breasts in our faces.
She twirls round so that we can see there is nothing at the back.
Whatever string is between her butt cheeks is firmly hidden or invisible.
‘What are you wearing?’ gasps Amber, her eyes popping out of her head. ‘I thought we were doing the opposite of whatever you are doing?’
‘I’m showing the boys what they are missing. Isn’t that the plan?’
‘Well, if you’re doing that, then I will too,’ says Amber, rooting through her case and pulling out slips of lace and thongs. ‘Got it.’ She holds up a tiny leopard-print see-through mesh onesie the size of a baby’s sock and stretches it out.
‘You do you,’ I say wearily. With no Cam to impress, I couldn’t care less. ‘I’m going to wear the least attractive nightwear I can find.’
I lay my case down flat and open it up. There, lying neatly folded on the top, is a T-shirt with a picture of one solitary pineapple hanging from a plant with the caption Hang in there. I stare at it before gingerly picking it up. I hold it close. ‘I’ll wear this.’
Cam is sending me a message; I just know he is.
A few minutes later, after Mimi has doused herself with sickly-sweet perfume, we stand admiring ourselves in the floor-length mirror. Amber and Mimi look spectacular, like Victoria’s Secret models.
‘It feels as though you both should be wearing wings, killer heels and carrying whips,’ I giggle.
‘And I like your choice of outfit,’ says Amber. ‘It’s very statement. Very elderly woman in a care home.’
We all start laughing at my oversized ‘Hang in there’ T-shirt over baggy striped pyjama bottoms, also two sizes too big. Only my neck is visible.
‘Now, stick to the plan,’ I tell them. ‘Nobody is getting their bits meddled with. Not on my watch.’
* * *
We get a slow clap from the three boys as we enter the huge bedroom and parade down the central aisle between all the beds.
The boys are whooping and cheering, especially at Amber and Mimi, who do look absolutely stunning.
They both make an extravagant show of walking like catwalk models, arms swinging and every few steps they stop and twirl to show off their amazing figures.
Henri looks gutted when I come through the door dressed like his grandad.
Then as we pass by and make our way down to the bottom three beds and get in them, the cocky, self-assured expectation rapidly disappears from their faces.
Suddenly the whooping turns into moaning and huffing.
None of us have a clue what time it is, but the lights go off very suddenly, and before I know it, the boys are all snoring their heads off.
Living the dream is utterly exhausting.