Chapter One Carys #2
All this sounds right and very smart in terms of the big picture stuff, but if you don’t like the same things, that seems like a day-to-day problem.
You can’t have one without the other, surely?
What would you even do for dates? Maybe Shreya and Victor are just obscenely lucky people who don’t worry about things like this. Couldn’t be me.
‘Thank you, Victor. I’ll keep that in mind,’ I say, deciding to politely disregard the hobbies part. After all, you still have to talk about what you like in your daily life. I could end up with a fish botherer and have to hear about it.
‘Carys,’ Victor says, catching my eyes in the mirror. I know he means it nicely, because some people love eye contact, but I feel like he’s peering into my soul when he says, ‘I hope you find a nice man.’
I’m about to say me too when both my thoughts and mouth are interrupted by a very loud, long beep of a car horn that jolts my body like an electric shock.
Victor winds down his window, and leans out. ‘There’s some commotion up ahead. Maybe there’s been an accident?’
I crane my neck but can’t see any blue lights, or hear sirens. ‘I hope they’re okay,’ I offer, because that’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to say rather than wonder how much longer it’ll take.
I try to ignore the hot fizzing in my hands. I hate being late. My phone’s clock confirms it. It might just be by a few minutes, but still. I don’t want to get in trouble or let anyone down. Is it premature to call someone yet?
It’s going to be weird without my phone. I’m not massively one for social media, but having an audiobook on the go while I’m mucking out or fixing fences keeps my brain happy. Today I’ll hand in my phone, and I’ll get it back when I’m engaged or leaving matchless.
At the top of my screen are previews of messages sent to my family WhatsApp, 24 Penrhos, named after our address, which seems like bad personal security.
I don’t want to interrupt their chat about Dai the butcher’s impassioned affair with Phyllis from the chemist from the town over, but this is probably my last chance to say goodbye.
Carys
Hiya, I’m nearly at the warehouse. I’ll text you in a few weeks, if not before. Remember you can call Rebecca Wallbank my chaperone if there’s an emergency. Love you all.
None of them questioned why I was going on Wedded Bliss, which was probably the biggest confirmation of my tragic status.
The only thing that spurred a reaction out of Mum was when I told her the show didn’t pay for makeup and wardrobe.
Luckily, I’ve been working on my extensive vintage dress collection for years, and being dolled up every day will be a nice change from fleeces and leggings.
Del
Traa babs. Don’t come home with a dickhead.
Ang
Or the villain!! No Nasty Nicks or Adam Collards!
Del
How will she know who the villain is? Isn’t that all in the editing?
Mum
don’t get Carys’d away, have a good time, love you muchly.
I wince. My parents used to say that to me when I was a sometimes-too-impulsive kid with my head in the stars. Given I’m on my way to film a dating show where I marry someone, the horse might have bolted already.
Ang
Look for the red flags, Caz!!!
Del
Ask about his credit score.
Carys
I’ll try! Wish me luck.
Mum
Find a nice boy, like a doctor or a dentist, love you lots.
Del
Really? Someone who looks in people’s holes all day? Caz you can do better than that.
Ang
Caz looks at animal holes all day. Match made in heaven.
Carys
I really don’t look in that many holes.
Mum
girls please stop saying holes
It’s not the first time they’ve told me to ask about financial stuff, but given I live off my overdraft and spend most of my day working with sheep, I’d feel hypocritical ruling someone out for their job. Unless they work for some kind of evil political party. We all have limits.
Before I can put my phone away, my group chat with just my sisters, affectionately called CadWallies, lights up.
Del
And don’t forget to ask for reasonable adjustments if you need them.
Del
I know you won’t but still.
Del
You should.
Ang
What she said, also don’t kiss frogs x
Del
Stay on message! >:(
Ang
I am!!!
Ang
That’s important too!!!!
They know me too well, because obviously I’m not going to do that. And yes, maybe I did lie to my sisters just a tiny bit by insinuating that production know I’m autistic, which they do not. But in my defence, I didn’t want them to worry. This way is better and I didn’t technically lie.
Carys
I will be okay! I have a chaperone to support me :)
Truth is, I’m not going to ask for anything special. Everyone gets access to therapists if we need them, as well as a dedicated member of the production team to look after us. I’m sure that will be enough. My chaperone Reb seems nice enough.
I’m not ashamed of being autistic. I just didn’t want to risk being knocked out of the audition process.
Or worse, risking the show positioning me as some kind of inspirational poster child for autistic adults finding love – The Undateables part two.
Barf. If that little omission means my scenes aren’t scored by cutesy, kid-show music about how adorable and sweet hearted it is that a disabled person can find love, then good.
I’ll go stealth. If I need help with something, I’ll just talk about it on an individual issue level like ‘I’m overwhelmed’ or ‘I have a migraine’.
Stuff that neurotypical people can understand easier than ‘I am upset because I don’t have my usual cup’.
The warehouse stage is only eight real days, even if they call it two weeks on the show. It’ll be fine.
I doubt I’ll get found out. It’s not like neurotypical people know what autistic people are like anyway.
I did the psychological assessment that all the contestants have to do, to make sure we’re safe to go on the show, and I made sure to answer the opposite way to the truth on a few things, just to be safe.
There was no follow up, so I guess I did a good job of masking.
I just get read as slightly kooky. That’s what people have been saying about me since I was a kid. She’s a character. She’s unique. Oh, isn’t she like Jess from New Girl. I can live in those awkward, eccentric girl stereotypes if it gets me what I want.
A final message comes through to the family group chat.
Dad
Bye.
Effusive as ever.
Five minutes pass, then ten. The back of my thighs are sweating so much that I’m sticking to the seat, and yet the air con is so high I’m in danger of arriving at the warehouse looking like I have two of the Eryri peaks in my bra.
I’m back to tapping on my chest, wondering why people honk when it just makes everyone so upset.
Suddenly everyone is beeping in a cacophony so body-rattling that I almost vomit all over my sundress. That or meltdown, and I’m not sure which is worse. Vomit is easier to explain away, but then it’s everyone else’s problem.
God, I can’t deal with this. I curl up in my seat and shove my fingers in my ears, keeping my eye on the silent, slow clouds above.
My strange position means I see her face, framed in the window. She steps out of the car next to us, I think. Her icy blonde hair is cut into a sheer bob, her mouth a mirrored red lipsticked slash.
I sit up, and see the slinky scarlet dress wrapped around her curves. She glows, I swear she does. It’s not just my overstimulated brain warping the colours; she is a Goddess of Wrath.
I can’t keep my eyes off her, spinning round up onto my knees to watch her through the back window as she storms over to the perma-honking car behind ours, and slams her fist down on the bonnet. ‘Can youse shut the fuck up?!’
Woah.
The driver holds up his hands in apology and quite a lot of terror, mouthing SORRY over and over.
Imagine being that brave. It must be easier to be brave when you’re tall.
There’s a chorus of cheering around us.
Even Victor applauds. ‘Now that is a woman.’
‘Are blondes your type?’ I ask, then regret it. You can’t just ask someone that. I’m not on Wedded Bliss yet.
But he laughs. ‘Any woman who puts a dickhead in her place is the kind I want to go home to. Having someone set you straight when you’re out of line?
’ He makes a noise that would confound any spelling bee participant.
‘A beautiful woman who can see right through your bullshit? That is my type, Miss Carys. Mind you, I’m about twenty years too old for her. ’
I smile at him. ‘Is that what Shreya is like?’
‘Oh, you bet. I was a total mess when we met – what twenty-year-old man isn’t? But she said this is how it is and how it’s gonna be, and if you want that you gotta be this way.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Boy, did I get in line quickly!’
‘I can’t imagine you being that much of a mischief.’
He laughs, but it drops off quickly. ‘Oh now, where is she going?’
I follow his gaze, as our blonde saviour storms through the rows of stationary cars.
Her driver gets out his car, waving his arms furiously.
Victor whistles. ‘Hey! Mike!’
‘Vic! What is this business?’ Mike yells, and I wonder if all car drivers in London know each other. ‘Come back please, Miss! I can’t leave the car!’
Victor sucks his teeth. I guess he can’t either.
Maybe I should go after her? I can’t see where she’s gone. My hands still shake with adrenaline, and it’s not got quieter outside. I peer through the front window, trying to see where she is.
And that’s when I see a plastic iced coffee cup tumbling out of the car in front of me onto the grassy verge, lid still attached. Perfect bait for a small animal to get stuck in.
Something in me snaps. You don’t work on a city farm without developing some strong feelings about littering.
I can do this. I am a champion of nature!
I barely hear Victor’s protests as I get out the car, nor register how numb my legs are. Channelling the blonde Goddess, I strut up to the metal barrier at the roadside and lean down to pick up the cup with my fingertips.