by Sandy Barker
‘You read my piece?’
‘I read all the pieces you write under your own name.’
Hearing that Prue not only reads my work―my proper work―but likes it, has opened up a whole new level of ‘chuffed’. ‘Er … wow. And thank you.’
‘No need to thank me. What sort of editor would I be if I didn’t keep professional tabs on my writers?’
‘Oh, yes, quite.’
‘But I’m realising now that I’ve done you a disservice, Abigail.’
‘How so?’
‘I’ve watched you become comfortable at Feed Your Mind as Anastasia, and I haven’t really pushed you.’
Confronted with this notion, I realise it’s true. Prue typically receives my pieces with what I had presumed was indifference―I’d met her requirements, so no need for edits. But hearing her now, perhaps she has been allowing me to hum along unchallenged.
‘And that will no longer do,’ she says.
‘How do you mean?’ I ask, the knot in my tum tightening again. I really hope Prue isn’t going to choose now―when I’m thousands of miles from home and in emotional turmoil―to push this little bird out of the nest. I send a quick plea to Cadmus.
‘Here’s what I’m thinking. Turn this around―as I know you can do―and re-submit the latest recap. Then get to work on your tell-all―properly.’
What? How can she possibly know about that? ‘My, er, tell-all?’
Ack-ack-ack. ‘Abigail, I am a highly intelligent woman and, as I’ve said, I know you―having once been you. If you’re not writing an exposé in parallel to your Anastasia pieces, I will shave off my left eyebrow.’ The image of Prue sans an eyebrow is too much to bear and I burst into giggles. ‘There’s my girl,’ she says.
‘Sorry, Prue. I didn’t mean to―’
‘And stop apologising. I need your mind in the game, Abigail―your sharp wit, your unique turn of phrase―and it won’t do if you’re wallowing in self-pity or grovelling for forgiveness. Understood?’
‘Er, yes, understood.’
‘Excellent. Have the recap on my desk by close of business today.’
I check the time on the laptop screen. It’s just after 10pm here, which means I have a late night ahead of me.
‘All right, will do, Prue. And thank you. I really apprec―’
‘Enough of all that. Speak soon.’ She ends the call and I take the phone from my ear and stare it.
Oh, Cadmus. As if this situation weren’t surreal enough already, I may have just fallen down the rabbit hole.
The Stag in Sydney Recap: Only Fools and Horses
by Anastasia Blabbergasted
We’re nearly at the halfway mark of The Stag in Sydney and there have been more twists and turns than the Monaco Grand Prix!
* * *
This week’s episode begins in Australia’s stunning Hunter Valley, home to some of the world’s best Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon―apparently, that is. The antipodeans have heard of a little place called France, have they not? Regardless, this is the sort of scenery porn typically reserved for British Airways advertisements―stands of eucalyptus trees, neat rows of vibrant green vines, heavy with plump bunches of grapes, and rolling green hills. Breathtaking.
* * *
And doesn’t today’s threesome have our Danny Boy grinning like … well, like a man on a date with three women?!
* * *
And why wouldn’t he be? First up, there’s the beautiful Becca, who he calls ‘lithe’. I’m fairly certain that word is more often used to describe racehorses, Daniel, but I’ll give you a pass―no doubt her OTT beauty has got you tongue-tied―especially as you’ve set the tone perfectly for a rather ‘horse-themed’ episode.
* * *
Date number two is sophisticated thoroughbred Daphne. Viewers, perhaps we should have a competition―first person to catch Daphne with a hair out of place wins a year’s subscription to Horse and Hound!
* * *
Rounding out this equine episode as date number three is Dark Horse, Abby. The poor love will literally find herself astride a horse before she can say, ‘Oh, no, I’d really rather not,’ and whatever her mystery job turns out to be, it certainly isn’t ‘cowgirl’. But I’ll come back to that.
* * *
With Becca up first, abseiling of all things―is this The Stag or I’m Super Famous, I Want Out?―there is a glimmer of hope that the world’s most beautiful woman will at least look frightful in a helmet and a crotch-hugging harness. Alas, no, and we mere mortals are left to love-hate her from afar.
* * *
And Danny Boy surprisingly shows that while he may be a master of many things―expertly pouring a flute of champagne, wearing designer sunglasses just so, crunching big numbers and making international trades―Bear Grylls’ job is absolutely safe. Are those tears in his eyes?
* * *
Ever-amiable Becca―another reason for us to love-hate her―is there at the bottom of the cliff to champion Daniel and receive him with open mouth arms. I’m certain that even the camera operator looked away during that clinch. ‘Whoa, you two, this is a family show!’ (It isn’t, but I had to take a cold shower after that kiss.)
* * *
Just when we thought Becca may be the front runner for Daniel’s heart, in comes (unsuitably attired) Daphne! (Aside: They did tell her she was going off-roading and not to a garden party, right?) Their date, exploring the Australian bush in a four-wheel-drive, is quite the adventure with Daphne squealing delightedly (or is that screaming in terror?) at the appropriate times―Daniel driving into a muddy hole, Daniel sliding the vehicle sideways around a bend, Daniel nearly crashing the vehicle into an enormous eucalyptus tree. I hope Range Rover felt it got its money’s worth with that not-so-subtle product placement. ‘Even the least experienced drivers can’t crash one of our vehicles!’
* * *
Their date is wrapped up with a kiss so chaste, it reminds me of the ‘balcony kiss’ from every royal wedding since the dawn of time (without the cheering crowds, of course).
* * *
At this point in the episode, we discover that there is something outdoorsy Daniel is good at and, with my heavy-handed foreshadowing, surely you’ve guessed that it must be horse riding! Now, if you can count―and I’m assuming you can, at least to three―then you’ll realise it’s Abby the Enigma up next. And if we thought Daniel looked terrified as he descended that cliff face (and he did), that pales in comparison to Abby as she approaches Womble the horse.
* * *
Another aside: I absolutely loved the Wombles in my childhood―and horses. I would (very much) have liked a horse called ‘Womble’, or a Womble called ‘Horse’, for that matter.
* * *
Poor Abby awkwardly sits astride Womble nervously worrying the reins as though she can make a genie appear and wish to be whisked to safety. Meanwhile, (man about vineyard) Daniel seems to be in his element! Cut to the obligatory shot of them riding between the rows of grapevines and then THE INCIDENT.
* * *
For those of you who get squeamish, or those who don’t care for profanity (even if it’s bleeped out), look away or skip ahead now.
* * *
THE INCIDENT unfolds thus: Daniel encouraging Abby to trot. Abby valuing her life and opting not to. Daniel determining that the best way for Abby to learn is to slap her horse on the arse. Womble taking off across a field far faster than any Womble has ever moved before. Daniel catching up to them on his horse (whose name I have forgotten). Daniel getting a (verbal) walloping from Abby (you go, girl!). Both dismounting and Abby sensibly walking Womble back home (wherever that is). Daniel apologising profusely and making Abby laugh (self-deprecating laughter really is the best medicine). Daniel kissing Abby!
* * *
So, there you have it. Three mini-dates and three kisses. Excellent batting average, Daniel. Even Donald Bradman’s was only 99.99.
But wait! There’s more!
* * *
; I’d like to remind you that the foursome is at a winery. And if that’s not enough of a reminder, some (awfully close) drone shots of (probably terrified) grapes on the vine will definitely do the trick.
* * *
Yet another aside: I really hope that doesn’t affect this year’s vintage.
* * *
Meanwhile, back in the tasting room …
* * *
The lovely, lovely vintner (anyone who pours wine that generously is lovely in my book) takes the foursome through his entire tasting menu. I had not pipped Daphne as a ‘spitter’, but as she takes those micro sips, then delicately spits them into the bucket, I can’t help but admire A) her restraint (after that drive with Daniel, I’d need some decent glugs of wine) and B) her ability not to dribble down her front (I tried the sip-n-spit technique while on a mini-break in Bordeaux once. It was not pretty).
* * *
Becca, on the other hand, seems well practised at this wine tasting business―she is an Australian, after all and I’ve heard it’s a national pastime. Her effusive ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘mmm-ing’, coupled with her ability to describe each wine like she’s writing a wine catalogue, certainly catches Daniel’s eye ear.
* * *
And where is Abby during all of this? At one end of the bar, getting absolutely sloshed. Was it THE INCIDENT that drove her to drink, or sharing her date with two strong contenders for Bride? Whichever, there’s a slight wobble in her stride as the foursome thank the lovely, lovely vintner and climb aboard the Stag Express back to Stag Manor.
* * *
Speaking of …
* * *
What do five Does get up to when the others are away for a day of fun and adventure?
* * *
This is not a riddle―this is a montage scene! What an absolute treat! For the first time in The Stag history, it’s time to break out the scrunchies and leg warmers and get yourself ready for an 80s-style movie montage, replete with the backing of 80s pop anthem, ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ by the Cyndi Lauper. (Credit to the producers for this spark of genius.)
Does splashing about in the water at the private beach
DIY mani-pedis
Bitching about other Does behind their backs
Sunning themselves on sun loungers
Reading
DIY bikini waxes (off-screen, behind closed doors―thank goodness)
More bitching about other Does behind their backs
Day drinking
And is that Kaz braiding Elizabeth’s hair? Is this Stag Manor or The Saddle Club?
* * *
By the time the foursome arrive back at the Manor and Daniel wishes each of his dates a rather awkward goodbye (‘Goodbye now―I’ve kissed all of you today, so I am not quite sure how this is done’), the stay-at-home Does are in various stages of inebriation, sun stroke, and boredom satisfaction after a day well spent in one of the world’s most beautiful cities.
* * *
(Did I mention there was a montage?)
* * *
Cut to the Pin Ritual!
* * *
Gordo, having shown more zeal than usual earlier in this episode (perhaps he’s had some coaching), reverts to his prior sombre tones and I’m not sure if we’re going to learn who’s staying and who’s going home, or who will be fed to the sharks at dawn. (Are there sharks in Sydney Harbour? Goodness, I hope not. That would really put a dampener on those harbourside frolicking scenes.)
* * *
Daniel plays his part in the Pin Ritual as usual―almost comically pausing between each name as though trying to remember where he is and perhaps even his own name―and then there’s a shot of the last two Does awaiting a pin, Elizabeth and Kaz.
* * *
I am torn. Call this ‘Anastasia’s Choice’. Kaz is a self-professed ‘cack’ (one of the many Australian expressions I’ve picked up this season) and is terrific fun to watch, yet I adore Elizabeth―she’s a darling and if she’s the one to go, I’ll miss her sweet, bookish presence in the Manor.
* * *
Daniel takes a deep breath. ‘Kaz, will you wear this pin?’ Kaz steps up, her ubiquitous ear-to-ear grin splitting her face. ‘For sure. Yeah, mate, totes.’ See? I only understand half of what she says, but I love her to bits, the cack.
* * *
Cut to a close-up of Elizabeth. Oh, how I want to climb through the television screen, give her a massive hug and make that trembling lower lip and those welling tears disappear. Thank goodness that as soon as Gordo says, ‘It’s time to leave the Manor,’ the other Does rally around and hug her while I sob into a handful of tissues.
* * *
Well, most of the Does do. There’s now an even bigger divide between Villains, Tara and Kylie, and the others. I’m also not sure where the (increasingly) aloof Daphne fits into the Doe dynamics, perhaps somewhere in the middle in no-woman’s land, or is that ‘no-Doe’s land’?
* * *
Regardless, so ends another topsy-turvy episode of what is turning out to be my favourite season of The Stag to date. Not sure about you but after that, I need a lie down and a giant glass of Australian Shiraz. Actually, that could be rather messy. I’ll just take the wine.
* * *
Til next time …
I really don’t want to go home just yet, and I hope this is enough to let me stay.
Chapter Fourteen
Imagine this: You are across the world, far from your loved ones, with a camera shoved in your face 24/7. You came seeking love, yet you have just been rejected in front of twenty people and your rejection will soon be gossip fodder for twenty million more.
AND YOU CANNOT LEAVE.
Poor Elizabeth. She was denied a pin five days ago and she’s still in the Manor. The story everyone else has been told is that there was a mix-up with the flights. But like Elizabeth, I know the truth. Her passport is missing. Jack has taken ultimate responsibility―this happened ‘on his watch’ as he says, and he’s personally driven Elizabeth to the consulate to fast-track a new one, but even that could take a couple of weeks. Until then, she’s stuck here.
That’s fine when she’s with the ‘Nice’ Does―or even Daphne. Daphne may be a snooty cow, but she’s reasonably harmless and never openly harasses anyone. But if Elizabeth’s left on her own, even for a moment, the wolves―a.k.a. Tara and Kylie―descend.
She’s supposedly back in England, so she’s never on camera and they’re taking full advantage. They’ve gone from the occasional barb to full-on ‘mean-girl’ bullying, saying the nastiest things right to her face.
‘You’re so plain and boring; how did they even cast you on this show in the first place?’ Kylie said to her last night.
Without hesitation, I’d leapt to Elizabeth’s defence. ‘You shut up, right now.’
Kylie just laughed at me and Tara followed up with, ‘Yeah. As if Daniel would want a mouse like you. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.’
Becca stood, advancing on them threateningly. ‘Get out,’ she growled, and they scarpered out to the patio, giggling like naughty schoolgirls.
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said to Becca. ‘And you, Abby.’
‘Hey, you don’t deserve that. They’re just bitches,’ said Becca.
Elizabeth, still visibly shaken, nodded but I could tell she was unconvinced. ‘You’ve got us, all right?’ I said.
Becca followed up quickly with, ‘Definitely. We’ve got your back.’ Elizabeth seemed a little brighter after that, and even agreed to join us for a few rounds of gin rummy with Kaz.
If there’s a silver lining to this horrible situation, it’s that Elizabeth and Becca have finally mended their fractured friendship. Still, I’d wager that Elizabeth wishes she’d taken up Jack’s offer of a hotel. She’d declined, citing that she’d rather be in the Manor with the rest of us than in a lonely hotel room.
Ironic really―as someone who has gone from living alone to living with eleven others, there are times when I’d kill for a
lonely hotel room. Even for a night.
And in the midst of all this schoolyard bulling, I keep reminding myself that Tara and Kylie are grown women―they hold down jobs, they have family and friends who presumably love them (or on reflection, perhaps not and that’s where their bad behaviour stems from), and they are (otherwise) functioning adults.
It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re behind Elizabeth’s missing passport.
Actually …
I tap softly on the Control Room door. I’m not scheduled to be viewing anything this evening, but I want to share my theory with Jack and Harry and see what they think.
