Chapter 14
14
I’m on my way to the airport again and relishing the time on my own. It’s been a tricky few days. Chris and Tim have been, in my view, as good as their word, laying miles of cabling throughout the house and garden while taking care to hide it as discreetly as possible. Rosa doesn’t see it that way though, and I’m sure there are hostage negotiations that have required less diplomacy than I’ve had to exercise to keep everyone happy. However, remote-controlled cameras that can pan, tilt and zoom have now been installed in the reception rooms, the terrace, the garden and by the pool. In addition to them, there are also fixed cameras in all the hallways, apparently to capture any nocturnal corridor creeping. The only place the contestants will be unobserved is when they’re in their bedrooms, but even then there are mobile cameras that Chris and Tim can use for any ‘morning after the night before’ interviews.
I’m collecting six people off two flights from London and Birmingham. Gus is coming out later to swap his minibus for an undamaged one and meet the remaining four from Manchester and Edinburgh. He’s printed out signs with the contestants’ names for me to hold so, after parking the minibus, I join the group of drivers in the arrivals hall and it’s not long before my first contestant emerges.
‘Hi, welcome to Mallorca,’ I greet the rather frayed-looking man who has marched up to me. ‘I’m Beatrice and I’ll be looking after you. Can I take your name?’
‘Yeah, Jason. Jason Roff.’
‘Nice to meet you, Jason. Are you excited about the show?’
‘Not really,’ he admits. ‘The timing couldn’t be worse, if I’m honest. I’m right in the middle of a complex deal, so I hope there’s good mobile coverage and Wi-Fi, otherwise I’ll be on the next flight home.’
He buries his nose in his phone, indicating that the conversation is over, so I turn my attention to looking for the other people I’m supposed to be meeting off this flight. Next to emerge is a heavily made-up young woman called Flo who informs me that she’s an influencer with gazillions of followers. Jason is patently unimpressed by her, especially when she asks him to take photos on her phone while she poses with her luggage.
‘I’ve got more important things to do than take your bloody holiday snaps,’ he tells her crossly.
‘Here, give it to me,’ I offer. She’s looking mutinous and I’m concerned that things might escalate quickly if I don’t step in.
‘You know what his problem is?’ she observes pointedly as she hands me the phone. ‘Small dick energy.’
‘You know what your problem is?’ he counters. ‘Fuck all between your ears.’
‘Enough,’ I tell them both firmly while silently praying that they aren’t one of Raquel’s matches. They’d murder each other within five minutes if left unsupervised.
By the time the final contestant from the second flight makes their way over, a little over an hour later, Jason is fidgeting impatiently and Flo is watching him with an expression of disdain.
‘Right, follow me to the minibus,’ I tell the group of four women and two men. ‘It’s only about a half-hour drive to the villa, but Gus, our producer, wants to film you arriving individually, so there might be a bit of waiting around when we first get there. I hope that’s OK.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Jason mutters stroppily. I do hope he’s going to lighten up soon, because he’s doing a brilliant job of killing the vibe so far. The atmosphere on the journey is subdued; Jason jumped straight into the front passenger seat, which I’m trying hard not to be irritated about. It’s not just that he didn’t bother to ask any of the others if they wanted it; it’s also that there’s plenty of space for six in the back seats and I’d be much more comfortable without him brooding next to me. I make a note to bring a large bag or something to block off the front seats on future journeys. Behind me, the women are chatting quietly and the other man is staring out of the window.
‘Here we are,’ I say as brightly as I can when we pull up at the gates of Villa Madrigal and I enter the access code to let us in.
‘Where’s the house?’ Jason asks.
‘Just a few minutes down the track. It’s worth the wait, I promise.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
I’m pleased to see Jason’s mood does improve a little when he catches sight of the villa. As arranged with Gus, I pull the minibus round to the side and park it in the space outside my annexe, where Dom is waiting for us.
‘Hi, everyone,’ he says brightly as we climb out. ‘Welcome to Villa Madrigal and Too Busy for Love . I trust you all had good journeys?’
‘Look, no offence, mate,’ Jason begins, ‘but I need to crack on. Can you just show me my room and give me the Wi-Fi code?’
I have to stifle a giggle as I can see Flo parodying him out of the corner of my eye.
Dom looks confused. ‘Didn’t you read the schedule I sent you?’
‘No. I’ve got a lot on right now. I haven’t had time to read all that stuff you sent. There was loads of it. You need to learn to summarise, mate.’
‘I see. Has everyone else read it?’
‘I have,’ Flo replies eagerly, flashing Dom a megawatt smile that I suspect is mainly designed to irritate Jason. The sheepish looks from the rest of the group indicate that she’s the only one, though.
‘Fine,’ Dom says a little tetchily. ‘I’ll take you through it. First of all, we’re going to film you walking up to the front door, one by one, with your luggage. When you get inside, your bags will be taken to your rooms but you are to make your way out to the terrace at the back, where welcome drinks have been laid out. Help yourself to a drink and get to know your fellow contestants. For all you know, the person you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with is standing right next to you.’
‘Look,’ Jason counters, ‘I know you’ve got a job to do and everything, but can we do this later? I’ve got some important calls I need to make.’
‘No,’ Dom tells him firmly. ‘If you’d bothered to read the schedule, you’d see that there are allocated times when you can work, and times when you have to be downstairs and sociable. It’s Sunday today; I’m sure whatever it is can wait. I trust you’ve all read and understand the social media and Wi-Fi policies, at least?’
Even Flo doesn’t admit to this one, and Dom sighs deeply. ‘You are not to post anything on social media about the show or any of the other contestants. You may upload pictures of the house as long as there are no people in the background, and you can take and upload solo selfies. The Wi-Fi will be unavailable between midnight and six in the morning, as the production team need maximum bandwidth during that time to upload each day’s footage to the servers in London, ready for the HQ team to edit it in time to be broadcast the following evening. Any questions?’
Jason looks mutinous but says nothing, so Dom pulls out his walkie-talkie. A quick conversation reveals that Chris and Tim are ready to film the arrivals, so I slip through the door of my annexe and make my way through the house to the hallway to help Rosa with the bags.
We may only be a day in, but I’m starting to wonder if the concept of this show is seriously flawed. Our initial ten all met each other yesterday but, apart from a bit of posturing from the men, they haven’t shown any interest in each other at all. The conversation over the sumptuous dinner that Rosa provided last night was somewhere between stilted and non-existent, and they’ve pretty much ignored each other all day today, even during the times when they’re supposed to be downstairs and socialising. I can tell Gus isn’t happy; early this afternoon, he summoned Raquel into the library, which has been re-purposed as Chris and Tim’s control room after their plan to use the games room was derailed when Rosa flatly refused to allow them to move the snooker table. They were in there for quite a while and Raquel looked distinctly rattled when she finally emerged. Two ‘couples’ have been designated to have romantic dinners apart from the group tonight, but there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm when the pairs were announced at the pre-dinner drinks. I was grateful to see that Flo and Jason weren’t paired up, but Raquel is busily coaching the selected four in the hope that they’ll actually start to up their game a little. Gus and Dom have scheduled an early morning meeting for the whole group after breakfast, probably to read them the riot act.
‘I want you to serve both of the date-night tables,’ Gus tells me as the contestants make their way to dinner. ‘I know I originally said Rosa could do one, but you’re much more photogenic than her and you speak English.’
‘Fine. I’ll let Rosa know.’
‘Thanks.’
The prospect of remaining safely behind her pass and not having to serve the guests absolutely delights Rosa, who didn’t take it particularly well when one of the contestants threw a hissy fit at lunchtime because the Calamari à la Plancha had tentacles in it. Even though everyone else adored the food and I relayed their comments in full, it’s the calamari incident that’s stuck in her mind. I’m chatting to her and trying to cheer her up when Raquel bursts in.
‘I can’t find the Prosecco,’ she complains. ‘Gus and Dom want the date-night couples to have Prosecco and I can’t see it anywhere.’
‘It’s not out there,’ I tell her calmly. ‘Wait here and I’ll get you a bottle.’
Rosa has made it very clear that the only person she will tolerate in her kitchen besides her and her assistant is me. Everyone else is to stay well clear, so I can see her twitching at Raquel’s presence, even though she’s on the other side of the pass. I hastily retrieve a bottle of Prosecco from one of the fridges and give it to Raquel, who dashes outside with it.
‘Taste this,’ Rosa instructs me, holding out a spoon with a prawn and some sauce in it. I gently take it from her and pop it in my mouth.
‘What do you think?’ she asks.
‘It’s incredible. What is it?’
‘ Zarzuela de Pescado y Mariscos . It originates from Barcelona. I’m serving it to the date-night couples with fried potatoes and salad.’
Our conversation is cut short by a hiss and a crackle from my walkie-talkie. I’m not a fan of it as it keeps making me jump, but Gus insisted we had them.
‘Date-night tables are ready for their first course,’ his tinny voice says.
‘On my way,’ I tell him. Rosa starts plating up and, as soon as the food for the first table is ready, I load it onto a tray and carry it outside. At the buffet, the guests are busily loading up their plates and I’m glad to see that they are at least talking to each other now. The date-night tables are further away in secluded areas of the garden so I concentrate on my feet; tripping over with a tray of food is not going to endear me to anyone.
I haven’t been to the date-night tables in the darkness before, and I have to say they do look magical. As well as the obligatory fairy lights draped around, there are also candles in storm lanterns hanging on special brackets. The electric lighting, important for the filming, is carefully concealed and softened to prevent any harsh shadows from being cast. It reminds me a little of the pub that Jock and I went to on our last night together, and it’s all I can do to force the bittersweet memory out of my mind and concentrate on the here and now.
‘Good evening,’ I say to Marcus and Deborah, who I’m pleased to see are chatting quietly to each other and looking fairly relaxed. ‘I have your first course here. It’s a traditional Spanish fish stew, served with fried potatoes and salad.’ As I’m speaking, I lay the various plates in front of them, taking care to serve them from the left so as not to block the view of the camera that is out there in the darkness somewhere. ‘ ?Buen provecho! ’ I add as I carefully pick up the tray and retreat.
‘Well done,’ Gus says encouragingly when I return to the villa after serving the second table. ‘You looked completely natural and remembered the sightlines. At least someone round here is listening to me.’
Rosa is also in a good mood when I walk back into the kitchen and, for the first time since the crew arrived, everyone seems happy. Well, everyone except Raquel, who I spotted in the sitting room morosely nursing a glass of wine the size of a fishbowl. For a moment, I’m tempted to go in and check whether she’s all right, but then I remember her eagerness to delve into my private life and decide against it. I’m struggling enough with Jock popping into my mind, without her encouraging it.