Chapter 5 #2
Spencer adjusted the knot on his tie and ran a hand down the front of his shirt, listening to the Sydney traffic buzz past on the four-lane highways below.
Even from twenty-three floors up in this mega ritzy skyscraper hotel, the hustle and bustle assaulted his ears, but there was comfort in knowing this was the final hurdle.
One last day of filming, one last decision and he’d be free to start the next chapter of his life.
Make the right choice.
He parted the curtains, peering out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Sydney Harbour Bridge twinkling in the late June evening.
He thought about Madeleine, who had been gracious about finishing in third place.
Was she back working on the oil rigs off Western Australia already, or had the program been the push she needed to reconnect with her family in the UK?
Somewhere out there in the darkness was the townhouse Kyra had taken him to, where he’d sat around a table with her parents and best friends, in a two-way interview that was as awkward for him as it was them.
Kyra’s home was worlds away from the palatial house the Brewington-Majors owned, with their orchards visible from nearly every aspect, and the underfloor heating that was almost as warm as the dinner-table discussion.
After the home visits last week, Emily had been the clear frontrunner. Tonight, he’d choose her at the commitment ceremony, and tomorrow they’d board a plane and be back in South Giddi Giddi by nightfall.
Ready to start a new chapter together.
No cameras, no crew, no cast.
And no caterer.
Clem Crossley had popped into his mind at the most inopportune occasions, pressing a variety of emotional buttons.
Driving out of South Giddi Giddi and spotting Dolly in the rear-view mirror, digging a hole in the rotunda’s freshly mulched garden beds.
Walking through Adelaide’s domestic terminal with the cast and crew to see a stand of gourmet orange peel marmalade in the airport shops.
The strangest things made him think of Clem.
The phone buzzing on his bed brought him back to the present.
A text message from Emily flashed across the screen.
See you soon handsome x Em
He stared at the phone. Emily was born in the same decade as him, her farming background dovetailed nicely with the life he could see in front of him, and she wanted to get started on a family.
On paper, they were a solid fit, closer in age and interests than he and Kyra. He’d spent the last few months changing his life to make this experiment work, and more than a few sleepless nights deciding who to keep in the experiment and who to send home … So why was he even thinking about Clem?
It’s only because she looks like Belle, he told himself—the exact same reason he’d steered clear of her at the Angelinos’ barbecues, birthday parties and even Reggie’s christening.
He studied his reflection.
He was the wrong side of forty, with hair that had started turning grey in his thirties, and a wonky nose, and he’d kept his distance from Clem for so long, actively avoiding her in social settings up until this winter. No wonder she hadn’t made a move.
His phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Addison.
How’s the decision-making going? Yours isn’t the ugliest mug I’ve ever seen, but remember this’ll be your one and only shot at a show like Love on the Land.
You deserve someone special to come home to, and love can grow from far shakier platforms than seven weeks of intense, on-camera speed dating.
If you survived that, you can do anything.
His sister was right. You’ve started this, you need to finish it. And if everyone else can see there’s a future for you and Emily, then bloody get over yourself and make it happen.
There was a knock on the door, and Spencer opened it to find Jonah, the twenty-five-year-old pineapple farmer from Queensland, in a tuxedo.
‘You got a minute, mate?’
Despite the age difference, Jonah was more mature than the other farmers on the show, the barrel-chested beef farmer from Colbinabbin, Victoria, and the contract harvester from Joondalup, WA. Spencer had fallen into an almost mentoring role with the young Queenslander.
‘Sure, cameras and mikes will be here in five though.’ Spencer looked at his watch. ‘What’s up?’
Jonah shook off his jacket, loosened his tie and peeled back the collar of his crisp white shirt, revealing a round pink mark.
Spencer bit back a laugh.
‘I thought only teenagers gave hickeys. Don’t worry, the producers will probably be delighted. Evidence that this love experiment is working.’
Jonah flushed. ‘Problem is, neither of my contestants had anything to do with it. It was one of the other girls, from Farmer Nate’s original group. We’ve been texting since the country show weekend.’
Spencer groaned, his opinion of the lad plummeting.
He’d heard rumours about off-screen shenanigans, but he’d picked the outspoken West Australian guy to be the shady one, not this clean-cut, quiet Rockhampton lad who seemed lost for words whenever a woman spoke to him.
‘She really gets me,’ Jonah insisted. ‘She’s super shy too. ’
Spencer raised an eyebrow, shooting a pointed look at the red mark hidden by Jonah’s collar. ‘I wouldn’t call that shy. But if that’s the lady you like, why are you stringing the last two contestants along with home visits and this high-stress dinner tonight? That’s not fair on anyone.’
Spencer felt a little hypocritical as the lad squirmed in front of him. Hadn’t he been thinking of Clem Crossley ten minutes ago?
‘They’re not entirely innocent themselves,’ Jonah said, straightening his collar.
‘Luciana was all over the producer at the home visit and Gypsy admitted she was only here to boost her TikTok followers and score free stuff. I tried to pull the pin a month ago, but the producers convinced me to stay, like they did with Emily.’
‘What?’
Spencer’s stomach churned with the sushi he’d eaten for lunch.
‘You know, when Emily was upset last month? The producers gave us all a spray about staying focused. They said to keep playing along and keep our noses clean, then we could do whatever we wanted when the show was over.’
Spencer’s mind went straight to the twenty-four-hour date he’d taken Emily on, and the tense few days that followed. He thought they’d smoothed things out.
The producers kept a lot of things close to their chests, but Spencer hadn’t known Emily had been close to leaving. Was that all this was, one big production for ratings? And if so, why was he still standing here instead of packing his bags and booking the first flight home?
The daycare car park was even crazier than usual and Clem almost didn’t see Hazel’s zippy little Volvo as she dodged the barrage of cars and strollers.
‘Clem! Hey! Wait.’
Tempting as it was to keep her head down and pretend she hadn’t heard Hazel calling out, Clem couldn’t keep avoiding her friend.
‘Alma!’ Indi squealed, waving with both hands before turning to Clem. ‘Mum, do you think I can hold itty bitty baby Cormac if I’m really, really, really careful?’
It was the exact opposite of Clem’s own reaction, but she followed Indi to the Volvo anyway and watched Hazel lift her new son from the car.
It’s a baby, not a ticking time bomb. She turned her attention to little Alma instead of Hazel’s new baby, who had arrived a month or so earlier.
‘Hey stranger, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were avoiding us,’ Hazel said, reaching out to draw Clem into a hug.
‘We haven’t seen you since the day you dropped off that magnificent picnic hamper when I got home from hospital.
You didn’t even come inside, or steal him for a snuggle. ’
Clem gave a tight laugh. ‘You know what the cafe’s like. Easier than the trenches of motherhood, but still hardly a moment to myself.’
Little Cormac stirred between them, and Clem stepped away, her pulse quickening at the soft whimper as his long, sandy-blonde eyelashes flickered.
Hazel rocked from side to side, yawning.
‘He’ll be back asleep in about three seconds.
After keeping me awake all darn night he’s trying hard to catch up on z’s.
How sweet is your Indi though!’ Hazel said with another yawn.
Indi stood on her tiptoes and stroked Cormac’s fuzzy little head and wriggled her pointer finger until the baby gripped it with his tiny hand.
‘I’ll grab the pram,’ Hazel said, thrusting the bundle of baby and blankets into Clem’s arms. It was everything she’d been trying to avoid, and Clem stood rooted to the spot, like a rookie soldier holding a loaded gun for the very first time.
Hazel’s running commentary about sleep cycles melded into Indi and Alma’s chatter about the baby dolls in the daycare centre’s pre-kinder room, and all the while Clem was silently urging Hazel to hurry up.
Just clip the bassinet to the damned pram base, she thought, sweat beading on her skin despite the crisp July morning.
‘Is Kev opening the cafe this morning? If you’ve got a moment, wanna grab a coffee with me and Cormac after drop-off and spy on the opposition?’
Hazel’s bassinet finally clicked into place and Clem lowered the baby, hoping her hurried handover wasn’t as obvious as it felt. The relief was instantaneous, and she quickly swiped a sleeve across her forehead to wipe away the sweat.
‘Tempting, but Brew Haven’s still closed with another sewerage pipe issue. Bubbled right back up their pipes and all over the bathroom and kitchen floors this time, apparently.’
‘Sounds like karma’s finally catching up with Marco Grubb,’ Hazel said, one hand on the pram handle and the other clasping Alma’s little hand as they weaved their way through the car park. ‘And before you run off, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’