A collective shake of the head.
‘Lauren!’ Jackie yells again, walking into the garden.
‘Check the pool!’ Amy shouts through the glass. Jackie looks around and shakes her head.
All of a sudden, a siren starts wailing on the TV and Adam Andrews’ face fills the screen. He’s looking at the audience and reading from a card. The housemates gather back on the sofa.
‘Where the fuck is she? She’s missing the eviction,’ Jackie whispers.
‘Viewers, we have some breaking news coming in from behind the scenes,’ he says, pressing his earpiece and staring to the side. He looks down before putting his finger to his lips and hushing the audience, nodding and mm-ing as he takes in whatever he’s being told.
‘OK, viewers, there’s been a change of plan for tonight’s show. I’d like to reiterate that this was not planned, and we will be refunding you all the cost of your votes.’ He looks at the camera seriously. ‘Is she there?’ he whispers into his mic.
‘Is who here?’ Gemma says, starting to look panicked.
‘Ladies and gents, what a shocker. Would you please welcome to the stage tonight’s evicted housemate, Lauren!’
The housemates run up to the screen.
‘Lauren, what have you done?’ Hattie shouts at the TV.
Lauren takes a seat on the stage sofa, smiling and giving a peace sign to the audience as they start to calm down.
It’s odd, seeing her on TV, Amy thinks. She looks like a celebrity with all those lights on her, almost like a stranger.
‘Lauren!’ Adam shouts. ‘Welcome to the stage! What a completely unexpected but delightful surprise!’
‘You all right?’ Lauren says, a picture of perfect calm.
‘Yeah, I’m all right,’ he mimics her indifference, to the amusement of the audience.
‘Lauren, can you explain what just happened?’ asks Adam. ‘Five minutes ago you were on the sofa in the house, and now you’re here. How did you get here?’
Lauren looks at Adam, then at the Barton twins.
‘Sorry, mate, which camera do I talk to?’ she says.
‘Don’t worry about that, love, you can look at me,’ Adam says.
‘Nah, I don’t want to look at you, I want to talk to Hattie,’ Lauren says. A collective ‘oooh’ fades up from the audience and Adam looks taken aback as he points to one of the cameras. Lauren scans where he’s pointing and fixes her face on the right camera, which zooms in. She smiles.
‘Hattie, love, you don’t deserve to leave the house now,’ Lauren says. ‘You’ve got plenty more to do. I want you to stay in there and prove all those haters wrong. I’m not interested in all this self-improvement bollocks and “better woman” bullshit. I’ve got what I came for – I’ve had the experience and I’m getting my ten grand. It’s all good.’
‘But Lauren, what about the million quid?’ asks Adam.
‘I don’t need a million quid to be happy. I am desperate for a gin, though.’
The audience whoop and clap.
‘Someone get this girl a drink! One final thing, Lozza – will you be following the girls on the telly?’ Adam shrugs.
‘Fook, no,’ she laughs. ‘I’ll see the lads when they’re out, in person. This show is festerin’ garbage, and you’re an absolute fookin’ tit.’ Then she stands up, removes her mic and walks off the stage.
For once, Adam has no response. The audience start up a slow handclap as he listens to his earpiece and the feed cuts out, fading the living room screen to black.
Twenty-Four
Gemma’s screaming at Hattie and Flick in the garden. She’s roped them into a fitness boot camp and has gone full SAS commando.
‘Wish I had an excuse to scream at someone,’ says Amy, sipping her coffee at the window. ‘I think it would make me feel more relaxed.’
Jackie joins her. ‘What about the Chat Room? I think it’s soundproof.’
‘True.’ Amy nods, staring at the commotion outside as Gemma starts clapping at them to up the pace. Hattie’s turned a bright shade of beetroot.
‘I wonder what Lauren’s up to?’ Amy ponders. ‘I can’t believe it’s already been two days since she left.’
‘Signing a record deal with her fifteen minutes of fame, hopefully,’ Jackie replies. ‘So,’ she turns to Amy, ‘a million quid. Gemma says she’d open a gym called Gymma. Hattie was chatting about starting a food truck chain. What would you do with the money?’
Amy thinks about this all the time. If she did win, she’d get Sarah to help her decide what to do with it all. Amy’s rubbish with money, and without advice would probably just let it sit in a bank, too scared to spend it.
‘I don’t know, really. Before now I’d have blown the whole lot on a house. But I’m not so sure that’s what I need right now. I think the first thing I’d do is book a first-class flight to Asia. Settling down can wait.’
‘Oooh, where in Asia?’ Jackie asks, leaning over the kitchen counter.
‘Probably Thailand – I love it. The sticky heat, the food markets, the people staring. Daytime drinking. Walk-in spas. The world’s most beautiful beaches. What’s not to love? It’s like a perfect balance of buzz and bliss. I don’t know – there’s just something in the air. What would you do?’
Jackie doesn’t answer.
‘Jackie?’
Amy looks up to see Jackie’s cheeks crumple as tears start to fall. She holds her face in her hands.
‘Jackie! What’s wrong?’ Amy puts her mug down and grabs Jackie’s arm.
‘I’m OK.’ She sniffs. ‘It’s stupid. I’m being pathetic.’ She sighs, rubbing her eyes. ‘It’s nothing, really. I’m probably just hung-over. But some dickhead was posting nasty comments about me on The Wall this morning.’
‘Saying what? Who?’
‘I think it’s a bloke from my old law firm,’ she says. ‘He was the paralegal to a partner who had it in for me there. Well, they all had it in for me.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know why he’s still after me – I left ages ago. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?’
‘Don’t let them get to you – they just want you to take the bait,’ says Amy. ‘Yesterday a total stranger tweeted that she doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me. No idea what I’ve done to deserve that.’
‘Amy, I’ve been dodging the bait for two years. But they make it fucking impossible not to bite sometimes, don’t they?’ she says quietly.
Amy looks at her sympathetically. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, Ames,’ Jackie turns her head back to the garden. ‘It’s such a long story. Don’t want you turning into that skeleton meme again.’
She clears her throat and sits down.
‘I was so happy when I started there. No other firms gave me a look-in, despite getting a first and a distinction on my legal practitioner diploma. They could only offer me a paralegal role, but I was still delighted. I worked really hard, then a few years later they offered me a training contract, saying they saw potential. Fast-forward lots of long hours, late nights and slow progress, and I qualified as an associate solicitor. Then became managing associate. But once I hit managing associate, progress wasn’t just slow, it stopped. It seemed like everyone was being made a partner, apart from me. First in the office, last to leave, billing more hours than anyone and bringing in more business. The final straw was when a trainee I’d supervised – arrogant little tosser – overtook me. So, I started making a few noises and emailed the managing partner who hired me about it, hoping he’d have my back.’