The Dating Game

by Sandy Barker

  ‘You could make a montage?’ I quip, attempting to lighten the mood.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t let your feelings get in the way of this decision?’

  ‘Of course I bloody did!’ he retorts.

  ‘Ouch, Jack.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry, Abby. I just … I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting in this room and watching them edit you into something you’re not.’

  ‘But you’re already doing that with Doe Abby.’

  ‘No―’

  ‘Yes―’

  ‘Newsflash, Abby. Doe Abby, the person who stands up for herself and for her friends, who’s clever and funny and caring―that’s you.’

  It is? But Doe Abby is worldly and mysterious and put together―all things I’m not. Jack’s wrong.

  ‘And I can see what you’re thinking,’ he says, ‘and I’m not wrong. You and Doe Abby are the same person, the only difference being how she feels about Daniel and how you do. That’s it. So, yes, too bloody right I kiboshed the idea.’

  ‘All right then.’ I am not quite sure if I’ve been put in my place or on a pedestal. Perhaps both, but either way it’s clear that Jack sees me very differently to how I see myself. And I quite like it.

  ‘When do you need to get this episode across?’ I ask.

  ‘Day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Can you give me ’til the morning?’ I’m glad the tension between us has lessened, but I really want to find another solution.

  ‘For what, Abby?’ he asks, his weariness evident.

  ‘I want to talk to Prue.’

  ‘But …’ Confusion flits across his face. ‘Why?’

  ‘There has to be another way, Jack. Becca has a kind heart. She doesn’t deserve to be portrayed as a harpy. And if she’s the Villain and she ends up with Daniel, then the media, all the show’s followers on Twitter, Instagram, they’ll vilify her. I will have to vilify her as Anastasia. Did you think about that?’ He sighs again. ‘I know it’s extra work to make the switch, and I’m sorry, but … please just give me ’til tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Okay, fine.’ Brilliant―I’ve worn him down! He crosses to the door and pokes his head out. ‘You can come back in now,’ he says to Harry.

  Harry returns, looking between us. ‘We all good?’ he asks.

  ‘Depends what you mean by that, baby brother. Abby, want to fill him in?’

  ‘I suppose that’s fair.’ I launch into my tentative plan, and Harry visibly deflates at the thought of all the additional work. ‘I promise I’ll help as much as I can. I’ll even do extra confessionals if I need to―in different outfits!’ I am grasping now. And Prue may very well say no and this will all be moot.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, okay,’ says Harry, ‘but we need to know asap, okay? Not tomorrow morning, but, like, now-ish. Can you go call your editor?’

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Yeah. And if it’s a go, I can get Silvia back in and we can work through the night.’

  I look at Jack and he shrugs. ‘You two are the best. I’ll be right back.’ I leave before they can change their minds.

  In my hidey hole, I pace as Prue’s personal mobile rings and rings without an answer. It’s early in the UK―and a Sunday―but having been on the receiving end of Prue’s inappropriately timed phone calls, I’m somewhat surprised when her recorded voice message starts. ‘Gah!’ I hang up and call again, hoping she’ll realise it’s important and pick up.

  ‘Abigail, my goodness. Do you know what the time is or have you forgotten there’s a nine-hour difference?’

  ‘Hello Prue,’ I say cheerily. ‘I need to speak with you.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Prue’s judgey sound.

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘Well, hurry up, Abigail, I’m about to fall back asleep.’ There’s a male voice in the background murmuring something unintelligible. ‘Oh, yes, darling, thank you―would love a cuppa.’

  In the entire time I’ve known Prue, it has never once occurred to me that she has a ‘darling’ in her life (or that she’d use the word ‘cuppa’) and I’m a little perplexed. ‘Abigail?’ No time for perplexity, it seems.

  ‘Er, yes, well, we’ve hit a bit of a snag on The Stag,’ I say. I’m nothing if not able to rhyme at inappropriate times. She’s silent so I continue. ‘We lost our Villains, as you know. And the Interloper, Stevie, was a potential replacement, but she’s turned out to be heroic and kind and a little too perfect to be a Villain. I mean, not a perfect Villain, but a perfect person. And Daphne’s probably off the show soon―all sorts going on there. So, Jack and Roberta decided it should be Becca, but she’s also not villainous―a little misguided in her affections for Daniel, the tosser, but she definitely doesn’t deserve to be the Villain, and now that it’s likely she’ll be chosen by Daniel―’

  ‘You want to be the Villain,’ she interjects.

  ‘Oh … yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just say that rather than rabbiting on for five minutes?’

  ‘Er, sorry.’

  ‘So, we need to consider if you being the Villain will impact the Anastasia recaps in any way.’

  ‘Yes, exactly.’

  ‘Mmm.’ This is her ‘I’m percolating’ sound―quite distinct from her ‘I’m judging you’ sound. ‘Actually, this might benefit us.’

  ‘Oh? How so?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, just think. When Daphne leaves, you’ll be the only British Doe and if there are any suspicions that Anastasia has insider knowledge, that she is in any way associated with The Stag, then making you the Villain will quash them, don’t you think? Why would anyone malign themselves, even via a pseudonym? Actually, Abigail, I think this is rather clever of you.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I, er …’

  ‘We really need to work on your ability to give yourself credit when it’s due, Abigail.’

  ‘Right. Though, there is just one more thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My mum.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I’ll need to tell her, you see―about why I’m really here. I can’t have her watching The Stag thinking I’m a legitimate contestant and see me being all nasty and selfish. It would devastate her.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Uh-oh―it’s the thinking sound combined with the judgey sound. ‘And there isn’t any other way?’ she asks after a few moments of thinking-judging.

  ‘No,’ I say, resolute. I need her to agree. This is my line in the sand. I will not hurt my mother for the sake of my job. Well, any more than I have. She’s not going to like hearing that I’ve lied to her―for years.

  Prue’s end of the line is silent again and I worry that she’s hung up or gone back to sleep. ‘All right,’ she finally says, ‘but sworn to secrecy, mind you.’

  ‘Absolutely. I promise.’ I grimace, knowing Mum will find it extremely difficult not to tell her friends I’m only playing an uncaring and competitive cow on The Stag―especially Aunty Lo. Oh, god, Aunty Lo. What will she think of me? But there’s no way I can extend the bubble of trust to her. She means well, but she’s about as watertight as a sieve.

  ‘Right, now if that’s all, Abigail, I’d like to start my morning properly. Oh, thank you, darling,’ she says to her … ahem … gentleman friend. I can only imagine what a ‘proper start’ to a Sunday is for Prue when she has a man in her bed. Actually, I’d rather not.

  ‘Jolly good, Prue. Cheerio!’ I end the call before she can question why I’ve added nineteenth century vernacular to my vocabulary. Because I panicked, that’s why. I’ve only considered Prue to be an actual person for a short time and I’m not entirely comfortable with it just yet.

  I have one more call to make before I head back to the Control Room to tell Jack and Harry that Operation ‘Abby the Villain’ is a go.

  She answers on the third ring. ‘Hello, Mum, I need to tell you something.’

  Nearly an hour on the phone with Mum, the whole time knowi
ng that Harry and Jack are waiting (impatiently) to hear the verdict, and I have finally assuaged her concerns. At least, I hope I have.

  ‘Yes, Mum, I am completely serious.’

  ‘Yes, I know it’s a far cry from what I wanted to be doing.’

  ‘No, I’m not in any danger.’

  ‘No, you can’t tell Aunty Lo about my real job.’

  ‘Yes, I know it’s a big ask.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum, really. I never wanted to disappoint you.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  I press the red button and sit back heavily against the folding chair. Of this entire experience, that has been the hardest part, that conversation. She’s my most cherished person in the world and I hadn’t realised what a burden it was lying to her all this time. There’s a weight that’s been lifted, sure, but in its place is an almost crippling guilt.

  I glance at the phone in my hands. What’s the chance that Lisa will answer this early on a Sunday? Zero. I’ll try to catch her another time; I really need my bestie right now.

  Chapter Twenty

  Onscreen, my face lights up, a study in pure joy as the keeper hands over a koala called Thor. In stark contrast to his name, the sleepy, docile animal curls his arms around me and settles onto my hip like a baby. He looks about slowly, taking in his many admirers with aplomb like the mini celeb he is.

  ‘His claws were poking into my arm, but I never wanted to let him go,’ I say to Jack and Harry as we watch Doe Abby―well, me―coo at the koala and stroke his back.

  ‘Yeah, he was really cute,’ says Harry.

  We’re watching the re-cut of the most recent episode and I’m both dreading and dying to see what Harry has accomplished. ‘Dying’ because it’s been a rather hairy day-and-a-half since I spoke to Prue about making me the Villain―our most clandestine operation since I landed in Australia―and I want to see if we’ve pulled it off.

  I had to reshoot my original confessional and we filmed a couple more to intersperse throughout the episode, wardrobe changes included. However, we couldn’t film in the backyard like we usually do, as that would give the game away, so Harry dressed a corner of the Control Room to make it ‘confessional worthy’. He even did all the filming, making slight adjustments to the backdrop while I snuck into my hidey hole to change outfits.

  Meanwhile, Jack called a ‘special meeting’ of the other Does to talk them through the final weeks of filming―and what better place to hold such a meeting than the Manor’s private beach (as in, well away from the annex). Doe Abby was suffering a terrible headache, so was excused, and I was able to sneak away for filming.

  It was extremely exciting and to strike the right chord, I really let Anastasia come out to play. Oh, those viewers are going to despise me―which is why I’m also dreading seeing this version of the episode. I’ve finally got used to seeing myself onscreen, but this will be altogether different. I’m not sure how easy it will be to watch myself be villainous.

  Daniel steps into frame to pet Thor the koala, and Doe Abby grins up at him. Poor Jack shifts noticeably in his seat. I feel awful about it and I hadn’t meant to share a moment like that with Daniel … It’s just … well, I was holding a koala! I would have grinned at anyone, even Vile Demon Woman!

  Onscreen, the keeper talks about the plight of koalas and the park’s breeding program and Doe Abby and Daniel nod solemnly. In the Control Room, Anastasia’s voice starts playing in my head, fully formed sentences pouring from my frontal cortex shrouded in that snarky, acerbic tone. This has been happening more and more lately and I start writing in my notebook.

  It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for―an excursion to meet some of Australia’s much-loved (and much-feared) fauna at a wildlife park! Abby looks utterly enchanted by Thor the (adorable) koala, who’s propped on her hip like a giant fuzzy babe. Though someone’s having a laugh―God of Thunder? With those sleepy eyes at half-mast, more like God of Slumber.

  And I don’t know about you all, but if I were Abby, I’d be hard pressed to choose between Thor and our Stag, Danny, who looks particularly fetching in that casual ensemble of form-fitting jeans and (do I spy product placement?) Calvin Klein T-shirt. And no man on the planet has rocked a pair of aviator sunglasses this well since Tom Cruise felt the need for speed! Delish!

  I scribble furiously to keep up with Anastasia.

  Next up on our wildlife adventure, cue the kangaroos! Or should that be, cue the curious kangaroos, as that buck seems doggedly determined to discover the content of Abby’s pocket. And are those squeals of delight or horror, Abby? Either way, Daniel does a gentlemanly job of intervening and by ‘gentlemanly’, I mean gesticulating (comically) and shouting ‘Shoo!’ The kangaroo seems unfazed, however. Perhaps he only speaks Australian.

  * * *

  And isn’t Pickles the wombat quite the revelation? Weighing in at a svelte 35kg, she may be the tiniest wombat in the whole park, but she’s with packed with personality. And how amusing that wombats say ‘hello’ by nibbling on your toes! I’d wager that Abby is rethinking those (fetching) sandals. More squeals of delight/horror and then the oddest photo op this season, Daniel and Abby seated side by side and holding a squirming Pickles across their laps. As soon as it’s over, Pickles scurries into her burrow without even a backwards glance, the marsupial equivalent of ‘I’ll be in my trailer’. I’m guessing she’s not used to working with amateurs.

  * * *

  A spectacular montage scene follows, showcasing a remarkable selection of Australian native fauna including echidnas, emus, seventy-four varieties of parrots (that’s me exaggerating a tad, but seen one cockatoo/parakeet/lorikeet, seen them all, right?), Tasmanian devils (Aside: Weren’t you just the teeniest bit disappointed that they weren’t spinning about like mini tornados?), and possibly the oddest animal on the planet, the platypus.

  * * *

  These creatures look like an otter mated with a duck! Though, as adorable as they may seem, did you hear the keeper say that they’re vicious and that their claws are venomous? Unfortunately, Daniel’s poorly conceived retort went down like the Hindenburg. ‘But aren’t most creatures in Australia just out to kill you?’ Not only does it earn him a tut and a shake of a head from the wildlife keeper, you must have caught the roll of Abby’s eyes.

  * * *

  And can we just have a quiet word about Abby? What is with her today? She’s hot then cold then scorching then tepid. Does she have a case of the guilts because her bestie-in-the-Manor-cum-roommate, Becca, is also falling hard for Staggy, or perhaps she’s adopting that age-old strategy ‘treat ’em mean to keep ’em keen’. That was Shakespeare, right? Henry IV Part II, if I recollect correctly. But back to Abby – smiling serenely at Daniel while cuddling the koala, then mocking him with eye rolls. Abby, Abby, Abby … Don’t play this game for too much longer or Daniel may not prick you with his pin – ahem – so to speak.

  * * *

  Time for lunch!

  * * *

  No sooner has Daniel’s arse hit the picnic blanket, does he turn the conversation back to one of his favourite topics, himself. ‘I don’t know why my comment about Australian animals being poisonous landed so flat. Australia has seven of the ten most deadly snakes in the world!’ he huffs.

  * * *

  ‘It’s venomous,’ says Abby.

  * * *

  ‘What’s that?’

  * * *

  ‘Those creatures are venomous―their venom is poisonous to us.’

  * * *

  Uh-oh. Abby is playing a (dare I say it) venomous game here – from Daniel’s expression, he does not like being corrected. What follows is a rather amusing scene in which Daniel hints at Abby making him up a plate and Abby hints right back that she’ll just have ‘a little of everything, thank you,’ putting him on the spot. Come on Daniel, I have every faith in you―surely you can toss a few olives and a piece of cheese onto a plate?

  Actually, that last line was more me than Anastasia. I cross it
out and watch the screen.

  ‘Have you enjoyed the wildlife park?’ asks Daniel―a banal question from a banal man.

  ‘Absolutely. It’s been amazing. You?’ asks Doe Abby.

  ‘Oh definitely, though I have to say I’m more partial to the wildlife in Africa.’ Doe Abby’s eyes widen―onscreen, it plays as interest but what I was really thinking was, ‘You are a pretentious twat.’ Of course, Daniel interpreted my reaction as carte blanche to spout off about ‘the big five of Africa’ as though I hadn’t learnt about them in school like everyone else in the world.

  Ooh, Anastasia will love that. I jot it down in my notebook.

  Doe Abby keeps munching on the picnic assortment, nodding occasionally and making noises that could either be construed as ‘oh, how interesting’ or ‘this cheese is unbelievable’.

  ‘I’m boring you,’ says Daniel suddenly. He puts down his plate and stares glumly off into the distance. Doe Abby finally stops shoving food in her mouth and also puts down her plate.

  ‘No, not at all. Very interesting stuff.’ Daniel looks at Doe Abby and tilts his head to the side, then raises his eyebrows, and Doe Abby laughs. ‘All right, perhaps just a little.’

  ‘I don’t mean to get all didactic like that.’

  ‘I know.’ I didn’t, but it’s what you say when someone’s self-flagellating, isn’t it?

  ‘I just … I want to impress you, but I come off sounding like a pompous arse.’ Doe Abby bursts out laughing―and I promise I wasn’t being deliberately cruel―and Daniel joins in. ‘I’m glad you find my shortcomings so amusing,’ he says.