by Sandy Barker
* * *
And what about the Cruella Sisters, the yin and yang of dreadfulness? It’s hard to pinpoint which of them is worse. Could it be Tara with her potty mouth and tendencies towards bullying, or Kylie with her potty mouth and tendencies towards bullying? You see the dilemma!
* * *
But with Tara the mastermind behind snatching said passport, she may just pip Kylie at the post.
* * *
The good news is … (drumroll please) … Tara has been booted out of the Manor! In a departure reminiscent of … well, we’ve never seen this type of behaviour on The Stag before but one of those meltdowns from Actual Homemakers comes to mind. Bleep this, bleep that, and a skyward middle finger to boot as she departed in the most ungracious manner. I suppose she walked all the way to Sydney airport, luggage―and emotional baggage―in tow!
* * *
But what of Kylie? Well, I don’t think even I could have decided a more fitting punishment for being in cahoots with Tara! Kylie will be made to see out the rest of the week in the Manor then wend her way through what will be an agonising Pin Ritual. Huzzah! The producers have done it again. Cruel? Yes. But just? A resounding yes.
* * *
But before we get to shots of Kylie skulking―and sulking―about the Manor, keeping the lowest (lowlife) profile ever, what about that dinner party to celebrate the return of the passport and Elizabeth finally being able to fly home to England?
* * *
Daniel’s invitation must have been lost in the mail, because he was a no-show; though, that could have been because Elizabeth, now rejected by him, has realised what a massive twat he is. She’s deserving of someone far kinder, far less egotistical, and with a shred of human decency.
* * *
But not to worry―plenty of eye candy in his place, with Manly Man About the Manor, Harry, the series director, Tim, the adorable camera operator, and, of course, the extremely gorgeous Jack―Harry’s brother and the show’s producer. Jack is like a hipster crossed with a tech geek played by a Hollywood mega star. Yum, yum.
* * *
And hasn’t he caught the eye of our Abby? It’s unclear at this stage if the feelings are reciprocated, but he does seem to, at minimum, consider her a friend. So, jury remains out on this one, but if Abby makes goo-goo eyes at him just once more (all that staring at his lips is so obvious, Abby), Staggy Daniel will twig, and we may just see a (tom)cat fight for Abby’s heart.
* * *
But that’s not the only extra-curricular crush, fling, or flirtation amongst the cast and crew!
* * *
No, no, no! As it turns out, the reason Australian Justine spends so much time looking longingly at the camera has less to do with her ambitions of stardom than originally thought. While it’s been clear for some time that she has absolutely no interest in Staggy Daniel, the true object of her desire has only just come to light. It seems that Justine and Tim know each other, as in before The Stag and biblically. Having dated a few years ago, this convergence of reality television and reality has meant not just a reunion, but a rekindling!
* * *
Let’s raise a glass to the happy couple!
* * *
Rounding out this dinner party are Daphne (glimpses of the woman this week, not the Ice Queen, so one to watch), Kaz (can they please give this woman her own show? Or perhaps just drop her into all other reality television shows and let her do her thing), the beautiful (inside and out) Becca (I am hugely concerned with how much she wants to win Daniel’s heart, as he is more obsessed with her looks than any other attribute. I wonder if Harry is single―Hmm), Carlie (the one crewmember who seems to have no specific job title but is across practically everything – also a complete darling, having endeared herself to most of the Does), and of course, the guest of honour, Elizabeth.
* * *
Didn’t you nearly fall off your sofa when Elizabeth confronted her bullies, the Cruella Sisters?
* * *
She seems like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose and perhaps this is her first ever ‘boo’, but inside that sweet, shy woman is a LIONESS! Roarrr! I actually snorted tea out of my nose when she said that line about cutting off their hair (all right, it was wine). And ‘Oh, do shut up, you foul-mouthed harpy!’ shall go down as one of the best lines in The Stag’s history. Honestly, next time I’m having a bad day and need cheering up, I will conjure the memory of that scene, especially the looks on the Cruella Sisters’ faces.
* * *
So, this pseudo family gathered for a casual dinner of takeaway Thai, merrily passing containers around the table, along with (what seemed like) some rather delicious Australian Riesling, chatting and sharing stories from home. Rivalry between the Does was temporarily forgotten, or at least put on hold, and my favourite part of the dinner was Kaz’s story about, er, ball sports …
So far, it’s a brilliant recap―possibly one of Anastasia’s best. I can’t submit it, of course, but it could make excellent fodder for my exposé. I’ll ask Jack for a memory stick so I can save it and take it with me. A little fib should do―something about capturing my recaps for future reference.
It was an enjoyable dinner, and a proper send off for Elizabeth. She’s flown home now, as has Tara the Terrible―different flights so Elizabeth didn’t have to worry about running into her at either end. Jack and Harry also made Tara sweat it out for an extra day, letting her think there might be criminal charges. There won’t be―Elizabeth didn’t want to go down that route―but Tara didn’t know that until the morning she flew back to the UK. Brownie points for Harry and Jack, awarded by my sense of justice.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
And Kylie has barely shown her face. She sneaks down for food when she thinks no one will be about like an over-sized mouse. No doubt she’s desperate to get out of the Manor, especially as she only lives a state away.
And that story that Kaz told at dinner. Oh, my―hilarious. Such a shame it won’t be on the show.
‘So, you know ’cause of my job, I’m on construction sites all the time, right? So, I’m on this site―massive high-rise, in the heart of downtown Perth―and I’ve been on the project for months, right, so I’ve gotten to know a lot of the guys and that’s not sexist, by the way―just no women on this project. Anyway, this one day… hang on, let me set the scene. So, it’s lunchtime and it’s a sea of orange high-vis vests―’cause that’s what we all wear, right?―and a bunch of guys are kicking a footy around, like twenty guys, and I know a lot of ’em, familiar faces, you know. And I’m walking past―super professional, right? I’m in my dungarees, my high-vis vest, hard hat, work boots, the lot. And I’m not actually their boss―but I’m also kinda their boss, because I’m the lead structural engineer, right? Anyway, so they’re kicking the footy around and one of them calls out, “Hey, Kaz, come play footy with us.” Now, I am terrible at team sports―always picked last in Phys Ed at school, right? So, without thinking―even for a second―I reply, “Sorry, boys, I suck at anything that involves balls.”’
There was a beat at the table, a collective intake of breath, then she added, ‘And even after that, I still don’t catch on to what I’ve said ’til one of the blokes―and I have no idea who it was―says, “Well, then you should definitely come play with us.”’
At that point, we all burst into raucous laughter―even Daphne. ‘And wait!’ said Kaz.
‘Oh, god, there’s more?’ asked Justine, who was almost doubled over with laughter.
‘Yeah, so, I’m frigging mortified, of course, and I just get the hell out of there and go get some lunch, calm myself down. And when I get back to the onsite office, the frigging football is sitting on my frigging desk! No lie!’
By then, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. ‘And to this very day,’ said Kaz, wrapping up her long but compelling story, ‘I still haven’t lived it down, ’cause once in a while, I’ll meet up with one of those blokes on a new project and they’ll be all, “Hey, Ka
z, wanna play footie?”’ Kaz shook her head at herself and when I caught Jack’s eye across the table, he winked at me.
I don’t know if it was a ‘between friends’ type of wink, or something more. It was likely the former, as all our conversations of late have been about the show and he hasn’t been to my hidey hole since I suggested he keep his distance. Why, oh why, did he have to do as I asked? I have wasted many an hour imagining (in excruciating detail) what I’d like to do to him if he ever does show up. Again, there’s no harm in fantasising, right? Right?
And I still haven’t learnt if I’ll be writing the next recap from here or from home. It’s not due for a few days, though―we haven’t even filmed this week’s Pin Ritual yet, the one with the foregone conclusion of Kylie’s departure. I wonder how Daniel has taken the news about the Cruella Sisters. He’s barely shown any interest in them beyond that strange ‘painting’ activity, so perhaps he won’t care.
With my monkey mind swinging between wondering, worrying, hoping, and imagining, I’m suddenly shattered and let out a long, loud yawn. I should take up meditation (for real), but the few times I’ve tried have been excruciating. Honestly, how do people quieten their thoughts enough to focus on just one thing? I’m not sure my mind is wired that way.
I return to hoping, namely that Roberta has forgotten all about pulling me off the show. Surely, she must have more pressing things on her mind with all that’s happened. And if not, I hope she realises there’s been enough disruption to the season already and that she should keep me―no matter what she thought of my rewrite.
Top two. With Daphne …
That doesn’t factor in what Daniel wants, of course, and if I had to guess he’s far more into Becca than Daphne―as superficial as his interest might be. Roberta, channelled by Jack, can nudge him along all she wants, but that doesn’t mean Daniel will do as she suggests.
What if he decides to get rid of Doe Abby next? Then the whole Roberta situation will be moot. Gah! I’m in limbo―professional and emotional limbo. And I am sitting in a storage room writing something that will never see the light of day, just because it’s (marginally) better than letting these thoughts run rampant through my mind.
There’s a tap at the door. It’s either Jack, or our resident human-cum-mouse, Kylie, has found my hidey hole and wants to borrow it. The door opens a crack and a (gorgeous) pair of green eyes appears and those ‘Jack and Abby’ fantasies start playing out across the cinema screen in my mind. It’s suddenly stiflingly hot in here.
‘Hey, you are in here,’ he says, opening the door wider and stepping inside my ‘office’.
‘You’ve been looking for me?’
‘Uh, yeah. Becca said you were meditating, but this isn’t one of your usual times for writing. So, stupidly, I checked the gardens―front and back―and the beach before heading here.’
‘You know I only do my nocturnal gardening on Tuesdays,’ I reply.
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he says, grinning. ‘So, what are you working on?’
I glance at the screen and see the paragraph about Abby crushing on Jack, then slam the lid of the laptop. ‘Er, just playing around with some ideas.’
‘Oh, okay.’ There’s a flicker of something unpleasant across his face; perhaps I was too curt.
‘So, you were looking for me?’ I ask cheerily.
‘Yeah, actually, I have news.’
‘Oh?’ I ask this as casually as I can but inside I’m squirming. Almost every time Jacks has news my life gets more complicated.
‘I just spoke to Roberta―caught her up on the exits from the Manor, talked about upcoming storylines and date ideas, and do you want the good news first, or the even better news?’
I perk up. Good news? Please, Cadmus, let me be staying!
‘Either. Both. Yes, both.’
He laughs. ‘Well, can’t give you both at the same time, so I’ll start with the good news. Roberta loved the rewrite you did on the last recap and she wants you to stay on.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really!’
‘Oh, that is such a relief! I’d really hate to leave the show now, especially considering the relationships I’ve formed.’ Uh-oh, Icarus, flying too close to the sun again. ‘I mean, I want to do a good job, the best job I possibly can, and being here with yo―er … everyone … that just makes the recapping all the easier, what with the insight I’ve gained and the relationships―with the other Does, I mean. And Prue will be really pleased―ecstatic even. And I am, too―pleased, that is. Really pleased. Er … really.’
And I really must stop talking now as I’m spouting nonsensical rubbish and have used my ‘really’ quota for the week―actually, make that the month.
‘Great. I thought you would be. And it definitely helps―you staying. We’ve already lost two Does this week―’
‘Oh, right. Of course, how silly of me. I hadn’t thought of that. You need to keep Doe Abby, at least for the time being.’
‘No, wait, sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant that it’s a relief all round―you get to stay and we can hold off on bringing in the Interloper for a couple more days.’
‘The Interloper?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. Haven’t I …?’ I have no idea what he’s talking about and he must sense my confusion. ‘Oh, right, I haven’t told you yet. And I forgot, you don’t have them on the British version of the show.’
‘No, definitely not familiar,’ I say.
‘Well, an Interloper is a Doe who comes into the Manor part-way through the season. It’s usually because something hasn’t gone to plan and we need to ramp up the drama. Or it’s just to ramp up the drama,’ he adds, wryly. ‘And with Kylie and Tara both leaving this week, we need to play the Interloper card a little earlier than planned. She’ll be joining us the day after tomorrow, after the next Pin Ritual. I’m sorry, I must’ve had a complete brain fart and forgot to tell you.’
‘So, is this the “better news” you said you had?’ I am not a hundred per cent sure this is good news. If the Interloper is coming into the Manor to ‘ramp up the drama’, then she’s most likely another Villain.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said you had good news and better news. Is this the better news?’
‘What? Oh, no … I’d completely forgotten about Stevie―that’s the Interloper.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘That reminds me, I must get her dossier to you. I should probably just upload it to your laptop―that way there’s no chance of it being discovered.’ I haven’t seen Jack this disorganised or frazzled before, but I suppose it’s understandable. He still has the dark circles he acquired during that sleepless night ferreting out the passport thieves.
‘So, maybe just leave it in the usual spot and I’ll upload the file first thing tomorrow?’
Wait. What? It twigs that Jack wants to upload something onto this laptop―the one on which I have just written about making goo-goo eyes at him. ‘Er, how about you pop it onto a memory stick for me? I was going to ask you for one anyway, so I can save all my recaps―you know, for … er …’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll do that.’ Phew.
‘So, what is the better news, then?’ Not only deflecting―now one of my superpowers―but it’s getting comical how often this conversation has gone off piste.
Jack runs a hand over his forehead, pushing his floppy hair from his face, then starts laughing. ‘Can you tell I’ve hardly slept for the past few days?’ he asks, releasing his fringe to flop down onto his forehead. ‘My mind is so chaotic right now. I can barely string two sentences together and I keep forgetting what I’m talking about.’
‘Welcome to my world,’ I say, laying on the sarcasm as thick as Becca’s Vegemite.
He laughs properly now. ‘Is that what it’s like inside your mind too? Spinning plates, I call it.’
‘Exactly like that.’
‘Only mine keep crashing to the floor,’ I say right as he says, ‘Only I’m dropping more than I’m spinning.’
/>
We grin at each other. ‘Jinx. You owe me a Coke,’ he says.
‘A Coke?’
‘Come on, you must have heard that one?’
‘Jinx, yes. Though, I’d prefer a decent Chardonnay to a Coke.’
‘Actually, so would I,’ he says. Now all I want to do is drink Chardonnay with Jack. Actually, I’d like to do a lot more than that and it’s starting to feel hot in here again. It’s clear his mind has wandered off too, as he’s currently staring at a box of toilet roll. ‘Er, Jack?’
‘Mmm, yeah?’
‘The better news …’
‘I’m so sorry. Right, so the better news is that next week, you’ve got one of the one-on-one dates with Daniel. And not only that, but I’ve snagged the best date for you. You’re gonna love―’
‘Hang on, I have a one-on-one date with Daniel next week?’
‘Yeah, and you’re going to love―’
‘So, is that really what you think “better” news is?’ Oops, already over my quota and I’ve used another ‘really’―but this time it’s really warranted.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Why would I want a one-on-one date with Daniel? Can you get me out of it?’
‘Abby, I … I’m at a loss here. Why do you want out of the date?’
‘Because!’ ‘Because the only man I want to date is you … you daft, moronic nitwit!’
‘Are you worried about doing something you’re scared of? Because I haven’t even told you what the date is.’
