Chapter Thirty-Two Dolly
Excerpt from podcast Rox’ Docs, interview between Dawson Roxford and Cobey Worthing
ROX If you could say one thing to Lina, what would it be? Cobey?
COBEY Sorry, I have to go.
ROX What? He’s gone? Listeners, he’s gone.
If there had been any doubts the show was running on a scant budget, the biggest sign should have been the joint stag and hen party that we couldn’t even invite our friends to. Though, fuck knows who I’d invite at this point. Feels like all my friends are in this room with me.
And enemies, let’s be real.
I know it’s customary for the show to get us all loose on booze and bring in the singletons from the warehouse at some point, but I didn’t think they’d do that now when we’re about to get married.
The showrunner chose violence, because I find myself on my hen do sipping on a very badly made margarita with Whit who is practically vibrating watching Malachi talk to Priya across the room.
‘Come on, you’re going to spill your frozen daiquiri.’ I take it and set it on the bar top.
‘No, don’t take that from me. I need it.’ Whit slurps the straw into her mouth, and takes a big hit. ‘Oh tits, I’ve got sodding brain freeze.’
‘Tongue to the roof of your mouth,’ I tell her, as she rubs her forehead.
‘This is the worst day ever,’ she says thicky through a pressed tongue.
‘You just tried on your wedding dress with your mum, and it’s the worst day?’
Whit looks at me with sad eyes.
‘Don’t you dare feel guilty because mine wasn’t there. We’re not talking about that,’ I say firmly.
‘I said nothing.’
‘You trust him,’ I say, knowing I don’t need to ask it as a question. ‘He had a connection with Priya and hasn’t seen her in real life before. He’s just catching up with her. You’ve got to let it happen or it’ll just be super weird and become A Thing.’
‘You’re right,’ she moans, tongue still wedged. ‘You’re so calm. How are you so calm?’
I scan the room for Warren and find him on the couch talking to all three of the Hannahs and Niamh.
It did give me a little thrill when their eyes nearly fell out of their skulls when they saw what he looks like in person, out of basketball kit.
Sorry, girls, you can have him in a couple of years.
He spies me looking, and blows me a kiss, which shatters their hearts. Oopsie.
‘What will be will be,’ I say.
I realise in my scanning that I’ve not seen Carys at all since we got here.
Several of the men are on the other side of the cube-shaped bar from us – Patrick, Billy (who will forever be the teeth guy to me) and one of the other guys who I didn’t even remember – with Bridget who is flirting up a storm.
Daniel, the guy who tried to guess my weight like a hog at the county fair, barely even said hello, and is over in the corner talking with Zack and Jackson about macros and weighing their shits or whatever red-pilled gym wankers talk about.
‘You’re looking for Carys?’ Whit asks and I sense the hesitation in her voice.
‘Why’d you say it like that?’
Whit licks her lip. ‘The booze is making my mouth numb,’ she says, but I’m pretty sure that’s a lie.
A roving camera comes close, stopping at us, and I turn to wink down the lens, which I’m not supposed to do but fuck it.
‘Yes, I was wondering where she is,’ I say steadily. ‘Lina too.’
‘Do you think we should go look for them?’
‘I think you need to finish your daiquiri, talk to a few other people and then swan over to Malachi to let them both know that you’re actually cool with them talking.’
‘But I’m not really,’ she says glumly. ‘I feel like a bad feminist.’
‘Fake it, babe.’ I give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll be right back.’
I do a quick circle round the room, but I don’t find either women, so head to the toilets. If in doubt, you can always find someone hiding out in the ladies’.
What I didn’t expect to find was Lina furiously making out against a sink with a blond man who is decidedly not Zack. They don’t even notice me come in. Their microphone packs are turned off, strewn at their entwined feet.
My own secret bathroom liaison partner isn’t in here with them. I could leave them to it, but I don’t want the cameras to find them.
I close the door behind me, and they spring apart, lips rubbed red from kissing.
His eyes are the kind of bright blue that you only find in oversaturated teen movies. ‘Cobey?’
He gulps. ‘Hello.’ It’s clear he doesn’t recognise me.
‘You’re not in trouble. It’s Dolly.’
‘Oh gosh!’ He bounces a little, like he might want to give me a hug, but is still glued to Lina.
I don’t blame him. I set my clutch bag down on the dry bit of sink top. ‘So…’
‘Please don’t tell on us,’ Cobey begs.
‘I literally would not dream of it. This is actually really nice to see.’
Lina’s cheeks are bright from all the frantic kissing, but so are her eyes. Finally, the old Lina is looking back at me. ‘I made a terrible mistake.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Now what?’
‘I’m leaving. With Cobey. We’re getting out of here.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Before the altar?’
‘I can’t stand another second with Zack.’ Her fists clench at her side. ‘He’s just such a… such a…’
‘Cunt?’ I offer.
‘Raging haemorrhoid!’ Lina yells. Creative, I’ll give her that.
‘I’ll second that. Production are going to come down on you like a ton of bricks, you know that?’
‘We’ll weather it together,’ Cobey says, and I’m glad that my instincts that he’s a nice dude were right.
‘Priya might be able to help you,’ I say, remembering she’s some kind of lawyer. ‘Are you in touch already?’
She shakes her head, so I make her give me her phone so I can follow Priya’s Instagram account from her own.
It’s quite bad that in the time I’ve had my phone, when I’m supposedly not working, I’ve hunted down everyone’s socials.
No surprise that I found Zack following some truly vile content creators.
‘Next question, how are we going to get you out of here?’ I pick up the mic packs, make sure they are off and wrap the loose wires around them.
‘You don’t think we can sneak out through the kitchen or something?’ Lina asks.
‘Not without them seeing.’ I go into one of the stalls and wedge the two packs behind the toilet. ‘You need time to go and clear out your flat with Zack. Do you have keys?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You’ve thought about this a lot,’ Cobey says to me.
I wash my hands thoroughly because I’ve touched too much floor and toilet area for my liking. ‘I’m always looking for an exit,’ I say, a little too honestly.
I look past them to the window. We’re on the ground floor, after all.
The latch is stiff, but the frosted glass slides with a little encouragement so there’s just enough space for them to climb out.
‘There. It’ll be a wiggle, but you can do it.’
Cobey goes first, sliding through like he’s going down a water slide. He lands with a healthy thud, but his face reappears ready for him to guide Lina through. She’s so small that I have to give her a boost up onto the ledge.
The look she gives Cobey has love written all over it. There’s no embarrassment or hesitation or fear or disconnection like her face has shown in turn over the last few days. This is the kind of love that’ll keep her safe.
She’s halfway through the window when she turns back to me. ‘Thank you, for everything.’
‘I just undid a window. You made the choice. Go, live happily.’
‘Dolly,’ she says, wariness in her voice. ‘Just… don’t trust Bridget, okay?’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I—’
The bathroom door starts to open and Lina makes the leap, gone before Bridget herself even notices as she just goes straight into the stall.
‘You alright, babes?’ she asks, mid-stream.
‘Yeah,’ I say, Lina’s words still hanging over me. ‘Just getting some fresh air.’
‘Fresh is not what I’d call it.’
I take the opportunity to top up my lipstick, needing something to do with my hands. ‘You seen Carys?’
The toilet flushes. ‘She was outside earlier, I think? Probably doing an interview.’ She washes her hands a little too quickly for my liking. ‘You sure you’re alright?’
‘Just missing my mum,’ I say, a little surprised when the truth slides out of my mouth.
She pats me on the shoulder. ‘You’ll see her at the wedding, right? Only a few days to go.’
‘Yeah.’ I give her a brave smile. ‘I’m going to find Carys.’
Bridget snorts. ‘I do not understand you two.’
‘Why’s that?’ I say, even though I wish I hadn’t.
‘You just can’t help yourselves. Always looking for each other, even though you hate each other. If one of you was a boy, I’d think you’d have a pash about it.’
She laughs at the absurdity of it and storms out the bathroom, and I cannot help but wonder if that was some low-grade accidental homophobia, or a warning.
I walk through the bar, saying hi to a few people as I pass, and make my way out to the front of the bar. There’s no cameras out here, and Waify Liam, who walks past me back into the bar reeking of cigarettes, is the only production member I can see.
So where is Carys?
It takes me a few minutes to find her. She sits cross-legged across the road from the bar, on a bench that overlooks the river. She’s alone.
‘Bit cold out here,’ I say, sitting down without asking her permission.
It’s clear she’s had a few to drink. Her face is flushed pink, almost red on the apples of her cheeks. ‘I didn’t notice.’
‘Long day.’
‘Long day,’ she agrees.
I’m conscious that our conversation is still potentially being recorded out here, even if we’re not actively being filmed.
‘I’m sorry your mum couldn’t be there today,’ she says.
‘Same to you,’ I say, recalling her twin sisters cheering her on as she spun in her princess dress.
She scoffs. ‘My mum thinks this whole thing is just another instance of me getting Carys’d away.’
‘You mean carried?’
‘No, that’s just what she calls it. When I’m impulsive, or don’t think things through.’ She laughs, a loose sound that comes from a few too many shots. ‘Mother knows best.’
‘That’s not very nice.’
‘Not all of us can have kind mothers,’ she says in an offhand way that breaks my fucking heart. ‘She’s not… I mean—’
‘I understand what you mean.’
I want to reach forward and take her hands, but I don’t want to force her to look at me because that feels like top of the list of autism 101 no-nos.
So does touching her without asking. There’s so much I haven’t asked her, haven’t taken the time to ask.
No wonder I keep finding her outside crying in the middle of the night.
‘God, I’m so tired,’ she sniffs. ‘Everything is just so much all the time.’
‘I can imagine,’ I say, before adding, ‘Me too.’
‘And,’ she sniffs, ‘it takes so much energy to hate you.’
I laugh, despite myself. ‘That almost sounds like a compliment.’
It gives me a little thrill when she laughs. ‘Oh dear. Not again.’
We both laugh then and everything, for just a moment, feels normal. Like we haven’t spent the last week breaking each other’s hearts repeatedly. Like we’re just two women on a dating show, talking on a bench at night about our upcoming weddings.
‘I should have listened to you,’ she says quietly. ‘About Peony. They’re still talking, I think.’
‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’
She glances over at me.
‘I mean it,’ I insist. ‘I’m sorry he’s not being careful with your heart.’
‘It’s not his fault. It’s not like I’ve been taking good care of it either,’ she sighs.
We sit in silence for a moment, and I wish I still had my bad margarita. Or even a good one.
The sound of a throat clearing makes me turn around, and I see Posh Louise crossing the road to us. ‘Hi, darlings. We’re all done filming for the evening, so you guys can just have fun for the rest of the night. Can you hand over your mic packs?’
I unclip mine with ease, as Carys wriggles out of hers. I’m relieved to get rid of them. Maybe, for once, Carys and I can speak plainly.
‘Thanks, Louise,’ I say as she waves us goodnight.
We watch as cameras are packed up, and the team slowly disappear into their van. No one else leaves.
‘Everyone else is having too much fun,’ Carys says, reading my mind.
‘Do you want to go back in?’
‘Not on your life,’ she laughs. Her skin is goosepimpling in the cold air.
‘Okay, but we can’t stay here either. You’ll catch a cold for your wedding day. That seems like bad luck.’
‘Will you walk me home?’
In another world, walking a girl I fancied home from the bar had a very different connotation.
‘Not like that,’ she says quickly. ‘I’m just so tired I think I might get lost, and I don’t really have the money for an Uber. Not until we get paid.’
I check the route and realise we’re actually much closer to the flats than I thought – only a twenty-minute walk. I turn my phone to show her the route. ‘That seem alright?’
She nods and gets up from the bench. ‘I need to move.’
‘Do you need to tell Patrick?’ I ask, as I fire off a quick text to Warren.
Carys doesn’t answer me. Woof, it must be bad.
We don’t talk much, and instead I enjoy the quiet of London in the early hours of the morning. It’s nice having a clock now, but it also means I’m very aware that it is 2 a.m., a time when I’m very rarely out of bed.
My shoes go from pinching to biting just as we get inside the building, and I kick them off when we are in the lobby. The porter looks completely unbothered. The things he must have seen.
Carys walks right over to the lift and presses the call button.
We step in, and I press the button for the twentieth floor. The familiar rise kicks in, but as we near the tenth floor, Carys suddenly leans forward and hits the emergency stop.
The lift grinds to a halt.
‘Carys, what are you doing?’ I gasp. I’m not afraid of lifts, but I’ve seen Mission Impossible enough times to have a healthy distrust of their mechanics.
‘I want to talk,’ she says. ‘For the last time.’