‘In my book Are You in a Realationship?’ Dr Hicks replies, ‘I advise limiting the amount of time spent talking about your relationship to once a month, and looking for telltale signs he’s struggling under the weight of your wants. Is he snappier than usual, or staying away from home?’
Jackie snorts. ‘Sounds like he’s having some on the side.’
‘It’s important to make your partner feel you like to know when he’s under pressure. That way you can work together to release that pressure and the strain it’s putting on your relationship,’ Dr Hicks concludes, and clicks again.
Rule #8: Chill out
A woman with tears in her eyes and mascara smears running down her cheeks appears on the screen.
‘That’s how you three are making me feel right now with this bullshit,’ Jackie mutters.
‘Jackie, if you aren’t going to take this seriously, then I suggest you leave.’ Danny looks hard at her.
She raises her eyebrows, stands up and walks to the front, before dropping her own list on the table.
‘Fuck you.’ She glares at him before turning and walking back inside the house.
‘Perfect timing, ladies.’ Danny grins. ‘Let’s talk about emotional stability. The problem with women, according to our readers, is that you’re prone to flying off the handle. Now, we know you learnt a bit about this with our lad HuJo, so I’m hoping this will just be a reminder. Don’t get your knickers in a twist over nothing. Don’t overreact! Listen to this lad’s story.’
The problem with women is that they’re fucking crazy. Simple. My GF got home from work last night and went mental because I hadn’t taken the chicken out of the freezer and the kids weren’t bathed yet. She didn’t even care that I wasn’t feeling well. Talk about an overreaction!
Amy’s always thought of herself as the calm one. Jamie could blow up at a second’s notice. Like the first time she met his friend Andy, and Jamie went wild when she touched his arm for two seconds, telling her she was giving him a signal. He ranted that it made her look easy and him look like a mug. Looking back, Amy doesn’t think she ever overreacted to anything in their relationship. If anyone was a drama queen, it was Jamie.
Dr Hicks hands out a card with the rules, which is credit-card-sized to ‘keep in their purses’, while Danny clicks to reveal a digital wheel with their names on it.
‘Ladies!’ shouts Adam. ‘Now that we’ve reached the end of the lesson, we have an amazing surprise for you. And for our viewers. Feast your eyes on our Wheel of Dates!’ He taps the laptop in front of him and there’s a beep. ‘We’ve got one lucky viewer on the line. Are you there, Diane? Hello, Diane – can you hear me?’
‘Oh my GOD!!’ Diane screams down the phone, joined by a few other screams from people standing near her. ‘Hi Danny!! Hi housemates!! I can’t believe I’m on TV. Shut up, Mum, I can’t hear!!! Hello?’
Adam smiles. ‘Yes, hello Diane and hello Diane’s mum!’
More screams.
‘Now, we’re about to spin the Wheel of Dates, and it’s up to you to tell us when to click the buzzer and stop it. Are you ready?’
‘Sorry, can you tell us what’s going on?’ Amy says, loudly. ‘What happens to us if they stop on our name?’ She looks around at the others. ‘Is this an eviction?’ she mouths.
‘OK, Diane, one … two … three … go!’ Adam clicks on the buzzer and the wheel starts spinning around.
‘Hello, is this an eviction?’ Amy shouts louder.
After a few seconds, Diane screams at him to stop. The arrow slows down until it’s clicking and comes to a stop on Amy’s name.
She looks at the rest of the housemates, who all turn to her with worried faces. Is it over? Is she leaving? She exhales loudly, her hands on her hips.
‘Thank you, Diane!’ he shouts, before hanging up on her. ‘Amy, Amy, Amy. Do we have a surprise for you!’
She feels sick.
‘Tonight, Amy’ – Adam wanders over to her with his hands in his pockets – ‘you’re cooking a special someone a Sorry Supper. A home-cooked meal to apologise for letting it go, for your lazy attitude to sex, for complaining, controlling, neglecting and pressurising. All the things you might not have realised you were doing, but I can guarantee that you were.’
‘For who? Who am I saying sorry to?’
‘Why, it’s Jamie O’Connor of course.’
WEEK THREE
Twenty
Gemma clinks a tea down on the coffee table. ‘I don’t know, Ames. What about all that money?’
‘Well, they say money doesn’t make you happy,’ adds Jackie. ‘But that’s just bollocks, isn’t it? I was poor growing up, then rich for a few years. I know what I’d rather be.’
‘If I win a million quid, I’m starting my own gym,’ Gemma mutters, then gasps. ‘I’m gonna call it Gymma!’
Amy’s had her head shoved under a pillow in the corner of the sofa for the last twenty minutes. Making Jamie a Sorry Supper to apologise for doing nothing wrong in their relationship is taking it way too far. They’re forcing her out. Ten thousand pounds is enough to get her to Asia, and there’s no chance she’s winning this thing. She’s been sniffing around the middle of The Tracker since they started, so clearly no one is talking much about her. Sonia Cole was right: she is the human equivalent of drying paint. She can’t compete with Flick or Gemma, so she might as well quit now and save herself the painful humiliation of a date with Jamie and anything else these evil puppeteers have in store for them.
She smiles, thinking about how she could be on her own sofa in a few hours, watching the rest of them rattle around in here without her. Maybe she could send a few messages to The Wall. Anonymously tell Jackie to take it easy on Flick. Or, not anonymously. Amy needs to be more self-assured and outspoken. She pledges to say something the next time Jackie has a dig at Flick.
On her way to see Dr Hicks, Amy stops as she passes The Tracker. She’s slid up a place. It must be the Sorry Supper everyone’s talking about. It doesn’t change her mind. She can’t cook for Jamie. She can’t apologise to him. There’s only so much she can take.
Gemma walks up behind her and squeezes her shoulder. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Ames? We love having you here – we’re going to really miss you if you go. Besides, we’re already half-way through the show. The next two weeks will fly by!’
‘Yes, I—’ Amy starts, but is interrupted.
‘Oh my God, I’m at the top!’ Gemma cries, looking at Amy with an open smile. ‘I can’t believe it – thanks, everyone!’ She waves at the cameras. ‘Sorry, babes, you were saying?’
Gemma’s outburst brings home the reality of the situation. This is a competition, not a community. They’ve only known each other for two weeks. It might feel like they’re close, but the cold truth is that every single one of them wants to win a million pounds, no matter what they say. They might be fond of each other, but in a month’s time they’ll have scattered back to their lives from before, and will probably never speak to each other again. She doesn’t blame Gemma for the outburst – she didn’t mean it insensitively. Amy would feel the same way if she was at the top, and Gemma is an open book. That’s what Amy likes about her.