by Sandy Barker
I knew I needed to keep him on the hook, so replied, ‘It’s not that. It’s just … it’s good to see you, Daniel, and not the pompous arse you sometimes come across as.’ Saying ‘sometimes’ instead of ‘always’ was me being generous.
‘I’m not particularly good with women,’ he says.
‘What?’ I’d been properly stunned by that and it shows on my face.
‘It’s true. That’s why I came on this show. I mean, I see people―well, saw. But it never went anywhere. Two or three dates, maximum, and they either wouldn’t take my calls or they’d give some feeble excuse for not seeing me. I swear, the women of London must have the cleanest hair in all the world. Anyway, after dozens of such experiences, it suddenly occurred to me that I might be the problem.’
‘I see.’
‘And I’ve come all this way and I fear I may be messing things up.’
‘How so?’ asks Doe Abby.
Daniel stares off into the distance again. ‘Well, I sense I’ve put Daphne off―that palaver on the bridge―’
‘I’d hardly call her panic attack a palaver.’
‘No, no, that’s what I mean. My reaction was the palaver, only I didn’t know how to make amends and now she despises me.’
‘I doubt she despises you, Daniel.’
‘You do.’
‘I do not.’
‘But I always catch you frowning at me and any time I try to amuse you or engage you in conversation, you get a certain look on your face. Actually, it’s not dissimilar to how you’re looking at me now.’
‘Oh,’ says Doe Abby, raising her hands to her face.
‘Do you even like me, at all?’ he asks. At that, I’d been caught completely off guard. I mean, what is there to say to that? I’d had less than a second to react―any longer would have been a dead giveaway―but it was one of those moments that seemed to stretch out for an eon as I weighed up whether or not to be truthful. In the end, I landed on the side of kindness (also known as lying).
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well, then why do you always keep me at arm’s length or constantly frown at me?’
And here comes the biggest lie wrapped up in the biggest truth I’ve told since I got to Australia. ‘Because I’m insecure. I’m not the prettiest woman in the Manor, nor the cleverest. I’m not particularly interesting and I still have a bucket list as long as my arm, not having accomplished much for a woman of my age.’
‘You are hardly a plain Jane, Abby―you’re very attractive. You hold up your end of an argument, without question, and you certainly don’t let me get away with anything. That’s one of the reasons I find you so intriguing.’
It was exactly where I’d wanted him to be―needed him to be―if I was going to end up in the top two, as mandated by Roberta. All I had to do was drive it home, so he’d be properly ensnared.
‘Well, then, thank you. That’s … thank you, Daniel.’
‘You’re welcome, Abby.’
‘And I suppose I owe you an apology,’ says Doe Abby.
‘How so?’
‘For making you feel that way, like I don’t have feelings for you.’
Daniel’s eyes lock with Doe Abby’s. ‘May I … may I kiss you?’
Jack is squirming in his seat again and clears his throat. ‘We don’t have to watch it. We all know what happens,’ I say.
Harry spins in his chair. ‘But I want you to see how I cut it together with the confessional.’ Harry seems intent on showing off his editing skills at the expense of his brother’s happiness―and mine, if I’m honest―and the rest of the scene unfolds. Doe Abby nodding softly, Daniel wriggling closer to her and then the kiss.
At the time I’d felt nothing. I feel all sorts of things now, however. Discomfort. Disgust. Disappointment. A myriad of other ‘dis’ words. I never want to kiss Daniel ever again and I certainly don’t want to watch myself kiss Daniel. All I want to do right this minute is kiss Jack, so that he’s the last man I’ve kissed.
‘This bit, this bit …’ says Harry, pointing at the screen.
‘And that’s how it’s done,’ says Doe Abby talking directly to camera. ‘Play hard to get, then give him a little morsel of attention. Easy. There’s no way I won’t at least get to top two now. And if I keep playing my cards right, he’ll choose me. Oh, I would absolutely love to reside in a big fancy house in London, jetting off on holidays, sailing about the Caribbean, and living in the lap of luxury. Yes, please, Daniel darling.’ Doe Abby bats her eyelashes beguilingly. ‘I mean, I’m from money, of course, but Daniel―being an investment banker, he’s proper rich, if you know what I mean.’
‘What about Becca? She seems keen on Daniel and aren’t you two close friends?’ says Harry off camera.
Doe Abby tilts her head and shrugs. ‘I suppose we were when we first got here, but this is a competition, isn’t it? Only one of us gets to be with the Stag and I want that Doe to be me. Besides, I have enough friends.’
‘Will you let on to Becca and the others that your game has changed?’
‘Why would I? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?’ A sneer tugs at the corners of Doe Abby’s mouth and the screen goes black.
‘Awesome, eh?’ asks Harry.
I don’t answer but fix my eyes on the back of Jack’s head. ‘Jack? What did you think?’
Jack turns towards me and I detect a tinge of sadness in his eyes, which tugs at my heartstrings. ‘You did a good job, Abby. And these new confessionals … they’ll make the next episodes easier to put together. We won’t have to fudge it so much in the editing.’
I’m torn. The professional writer in me wants to have done a good job, but the ‘just Abby’ me, the me who has fallen for the gorgeous Australian, wants to leap out of my chair and give him a hug. Professional Abby wins, however. There’s far more riding on all of this than the Abby and Jack storyline, like his career.
‘Do you think Roberta will be pleased?’ I ask. ‘You said she wasn’t particularly happy about swapping out Becca for me.’
‘She’ll be fine with it.’ He flicks his eyes to his wrist. ‘You’d better go get ready, Abby. The Soirée starts soon.’ To Harry he says, ‘You too, baby bro.’
‘Shit, too right.’ Harry leaps up. ‘Catchya out there, Abby. Good job,’ he says, giving my shoulder a pat as he passes.
I stand, reluctant to leave. ‘Can I just ask you one thing?’ asks Jack, now sounding slightly―no, let’s make that extremely―miffed.
‘Er, yes, of course.’
‘So, do you like him now?’
‘Daniel?’ My response is part rhetorical, part incredulous―but for Jack, it’s like red to a bull.
‘Who else?’ he replies caustically.
‘Are we going to have a tiff now, Jack? Are we?’ This question is purely rhetorical and while we exchange Paddington Bear hard stares again, I don’t wait for a reply. ‘Why is it that any time we discuss this show, this completely bizarre, messed-up show, we end up at odds with one another? No, for the last bloody time I don’t bloody like bloody Daniel, Jack. I’m playing a role. A role that you and Roberta and Prue and Harry all want me to play―need me to play.
‘And, yes, Daniel opened up to me and, oh my god, it turns out he’s not quite the utter twat that I’ve always believed him to be. But “not being that much of a twat”’ ―I angrily do the air quotes― ‘is hardly a glowing reference, now is it? Oh, lucky me, a man who’s not-quite-a-twat thinks I’m attractive and interesting. Alert the media immediately! I’m about to get married!
‘And in the meantime, while I’m throwing myself on my proverbial sword to keep Becca out of harm’s way—something I can never tell her, mind you—you’re in here sulking like a petty-minded schoolboy. It’s bad enough having to prop up Daniel’s ego, but having to do the same for you? It’s ridiculous and, quite honestly, I’ve had enou―’
‘You’re right,’ he interrupts.
‘I know I am.’
‘I’m sor
ry.’
‘All right, fine―good.’ I go to leave.
‘Abby.’
I turn to face him. ‘I only ever wanted you, Jack.’
‘Wanted? As in past tense?’
‘Perhaps this isn’t a good idea.’
‘No, it’s … Look, it’s only a couple of weeks ’til this is all over. We can work it out, okay? Please, just … let me make this right.’ He takes a few steps towards me and when he’s close enough for me to see just how olive-green his eyes are (a built-in mood ring, of sorts), he says, ‘Please?’
I huff, a micro smile threatening at the left corner of my mouth. ‘You’re a complete idiot. You do know that, right?’
‘I do and thank you for reminding me.’
‘Well, somebody has to.’ Before he can sweet talk me into a kiss, I need to get out of here. Part of me wants to make up with him, but he’s just so infuriating! There’s only one person I need right now, so when I close the Control Room door behind me, I turn right instead of left and slip into my hidey hole.
I’m both shocked and relieved when Lisa picks up on the second ring. ‘Abs! You’re lucky to have caught me, babes. I’m between meetings and have exactly’ ―she pauses― ‘three minutes before I’m due back. And fair warning I’m dying for a wee―’
‘Do not take me into the bathroom with you,’ I warn―like it will have any effect whatsoever.
‘Hah!’ she barks, ‘too late. So, what’s going on?’ I try to ignore the sound of my bestie on the loo, as the clock is ticking, and get straight to the point.
‘There’re five of us left, one going tonight but not me, and Vile Demon Woman now wants me in the top two―’
‘Jesus! Top two!’ The toilet flushes.
‘Yes, exactly. So, of course, I had to make nice with Daniel and on our last date, he opened up to me and he kissed me again―’
‘Ugh.’
‘It was fine―I barely remember it―but Jack’s being all possessive and strange and I just had to give him a serve―again―and I haven’t even told you the hardest part yet.’
‘Ninety seconds,’ she says.
‘Right. So, I’m the new Villain.’
‘Sorry, what?’ She’s obviously in the corridor now as she’s lowered her voice, but her incredulousness bounds its way from London to Sydney intact. ‘Babes you are many things, but you are not a Villain by any measure.’
‘That’s the thing, see, I had to step in. And I’ve just seen the latest episode and, Lise, I’m awful!’
‘Well, you gave it your best shot, Abs, but you just don’t have it in you.’
‘No, as in, I’ve done it. I’m going to be hated by people across the UK, possibly the world.’
‘Wow, really?’
‘Yes! Anyway, I was really calling because I’m not sure what to do about Jack. He’s got all jealous and insecure. I―’
‘So sorry, Abs, but I’ve got to trot.’ She covers the handset with her hand and I hear a muffled, ‘Two secs.’ To me, she says, ‘Love you to bits. Talk soon and don’t take any of his shit.’
‘Which one? Daniel or Jack?’
‘Either! Take no shit from no man, babes. Ever. Bye-ee.’
The line goes quiet.
Hardly eloquent, but Lisa’s words ring in my ear. ‘Take no shit from no man.’ Maybe I should have that printed on a T-shirt.
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s one of those moments I expected, yet it still shocks me.
Daphne did not get a pin.
Gordo’s sombre tone when he says, ‘I’m sorry, Daphne, but it’s time to say your goodbyes and leave the Manor,’ is completely appropriate (for once), because in the past week or so, Daphne has become one of us. Her stricken eyes lock with mine and I step forward and give her a hug for the first time since we met, her spindly arms wrapping around me and clinging tightly.
‘It will be all right,’ I say as Kaz encircles us in a group hug.
‘Aww, Daph, I’m gonna miss you,’ she says.
Becca and Stevie stand close by, patting Daphne on the back and it seems like forever before we hear, ‘Cut.’ Even then Daphne doesn’t let go.
‘Shall we get you inside?’ I ask. I feel her nod, then gently pull away from her.
‘Uh, Daphne, may I have a word?’ It’s Daniel and for a second everyone seems stunned, especially Daphne. Harry waves frantically at Tim who swiftly lines up the shot and starts recording, activating the (now more than ever) intrusive red light on the camera.
‘Why’s that?’ asks Daphne, curtness cutting through the tears. ‘What can you possibly have to say to me?’ ‘This is going to make terrific television,’ I think, hating myself for it.
Daniel looks about at the rest of us and then off-camera at Harry who nods encouragingly. It’s clear he’s regretting this turn in the narrative―one of his own doing―but there’s a flicker of something across his eyes and when they land back on Daphne, they’ve softened somewhat.
‘I want to apologise,’ he says.
I share a look with the other Does and we step back to give them some privacy. Tim does the opposite, bringing the camera close, something that Daphne and Daniel must be so used to by now, they don’t even seem to notice.
Daniel reaches up to pat Daphne’s arm and speaks in low tones while she stares at the sand beneath her feet and says nothing. When Daniel’s head dips, trying to catch her eye, Daphne finally lifts her gaze. I cannot imagine how humiliated she must feel, even if she was cooling on him. Though, if he’s apologising for his awful behaviour on the bridge that day, it may make this parting even worse. He’s human, he made a forgivable mistake, but he still doesn’t want her.
She nods once―likely accepting his apology―but as he reaches for another pat on the arm, Daphne has clearly had enough. She pulls away and strides past us towards the Manor. Kaz catches up with her and slings an arm around her shoulders. That Daphne allows this says as much about how far we’ve all come as it does this situation.
Stevie and I wave goodbye to Daniel, maintaining the façade that we give two hoots about him, and Becca hangs back. She’d shown her usual kindness to Daphne but she must be relieved that the numbers are dwindling and she’s still here.
I need to talk to her soon, and properly. Well, not properly properly, where I come clean about being Anastasia and reveal that none of us want Daniel (in the slightest) and that she has a clear path. But just to see how she is. We haven’t talked much lately, even though we still share a room. I wonder again if she’s hoping to move into her own room―it might be a bit odd after having had the opportunity for weeks now. Perhaps it’s one of those things that you leave too long, so can’t work out how to do it without hurting the person, like an apology left too late.
Stevie and I pass Jack, who’s been watching the filming from the lawn, and he smiles warmly. ‘Goodnight, Stevie, Abby,’ he says. I give a terse smile as we pass, still not fully forgiving him for being a nitwit, and he grins back. Did he miss that my smile was terse?
A few seconds later, Stevie nudges me. ‘He’s hot, don’t you think?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Jack. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Though, I reckon Harry is hotter. Whaddya say we ditch Daniel altogether and take up with the Freeman brothers?’
I laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard, as though I’d never once thought of taking up with a Freeman brother, never kissed one, and never imagined long, languid nights of making love with one of them. ‘Hahahaha,’ my voice trills with faux hilarity.
I stop laughing the moment we cross the threshold from the patio into the lounge room. Daphne is proper sobbing now, sitting on one of the sofas, her head in her hands and wailing. Kaz pats her back while shooting us a ‘help me’ look.
‘Daphne!’ I rush over, followed closely by Stevie.
Kaz leaps up and heads towards the kitchen. ‘I’m getting us something to drink.’ If even the unflappable Kaz is ‘flapped’ then this situation i
s worse than I could have imagined.
I sit in the spot Kaz has vacated and Stevie retrieves a box of tissues from an end table, then sits on Daphne’s other side. ‘Daphne,’ I say. ‘What’s wrong? Are you upset because Daniel didn’t choose you?’
She lifts her face from her hands and accepts a wad of clean tissues from Stevie, dragging them under her nose, then shakes her head and hiccups a few more sobs. ‘If not Daniel, then what?’ I wonder. ‘Is it leaving the Manor after so long? Leaving Sydney?’ Her eyes well up again, another head shake, and she stares ahead, her gaze unfocused. ‘Is it us? You’ll miss us?’ I know it’s a long shot, but I literally cannot think of another thing that could induce this many tears. And perhaps Daphne’s become more attached to us than I thought.
But the answer to my (obviously foolish) question is a disbelieving look, then a burst of laughter, which dissolves almost immediately into more tears. I glance at Stevie and even she seems perplexed. ‘Sorry, Daphne, but I’m out of ideas. You’re just going to have to tell us,’ I say.
Kaz returns from the kitchen carrying a tray that bears a bottle and four glasses. ‘Really, fizz?’ I ask.
‘Hey, in my book, there’s never a bad time for bubbles, and why not celebrate Daphne’s escape from Daniel the Dick?’
There’s a moment of dense silence―I’m dumbstruck and Stevie must be, too―but it ends abruptly when Daphne starts laughing heartily. ‘Daniel the Dick,’ she says breathily, then dissolves into more laughter. It’s the first time I’ve seen her completely unencumbered from her posh upbringing and reserved nature, and the three of us exchange concerned looks.
‘Oh,’ says Daphne, as her laughter dies. She expels some deeps breaths and accepts more tissues from Stevie, this time dabbing under her eyes delicately. Finally, she shakes her blonde bob, sniffs, and puts her shoulders back. ‘I’m sorry about that. I suppose I got a little emotional.’ And just like that, old Daphne is back.
