by Sandy Barker
‘So, are we filming this or not?’ says Daniel from his position further up the beach. ‘Becca, you coming?’
My eyes fly to Becca’s and from the conspiratorial look she gives me, I know that we will now swap roles, with her protecting me, the show, and even Jack.
‘Coming, Daniel,’ she calls over her shoulder.
‘Positions, everyone!’ calls Harry. ‘Gordo, get your arse down here.’
‘You sure?’ I ask her.
She nods at me. ‘Absolutely. We need a finale, right?’
Harry inserts himself into the conversation. ‘So, what are you thinking here, Becca?’ he asks. I’ve known him long enough to catch the nervousness in his voice.
‘Don’t worry. I promise, I’ve got this.’
Harry looks doubtful and glances at Jack, who shrugs. ‘What else are we gonna do?’ he asks.
‘Ah, shit,’ says Harry. He turns and calls out to the crew, ‘Okay, everyone, we’re going again!’ Turning back to Jack, he holds out his hand. ‘Give me the fricking pin.’ Jack slides it from his shirt and hands it to his brother. ‘And get out of the shot, will ya, you two?’
‘Oh, right, sorry,’ I say.
‘Sorry, bro,’ says Jack as he takes my hand and leads me up the beach.
Becca takes her position facing Daniel, who tucks the pin back inside his tuxedo pocket. Gordo stands off to the side as Daniel smiles at Becca and Harry shouts, ‘Action!’
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Stag in Sydney Recap: And that’s a wrap!
by Anastasia Blabbergasted
In an absolute first for this recapper, I am flabbergasted! No one could have predicted we’d have such a dramatic finale to The Stag in Sydney, even me!
* * *
Our top two Does, once best of friends, have been cooling on each other for some time now, with the Becca–Abby ‘wromance’ going from winks and conspiratorial whispers to barely civil smiles. But pitted against each other in the finale, the two contenders for Bride forget all prior chumminess entirely, beginning with duelling confessionals!
* * *
Abby: ‘Becca’s lovely, but Daniel needs someone who won’t let him walk all over them―someone like me.’
* * *
Me-ow! Abby’s cocky confessional wraps up with the question, ‘What specifically did Daniel say that makes you so confident he’ll choose you?’ to which she answers, ‘That he will.’
* * *
Ah-hah! So, that’s what she and Daniel were saying when they snuck off at the Botanic Gardens. At this stage in the episode, I’m putting all my money on Abby for the win.
* * *
But it seems that Becca should not be underestimated―not by me and certainly not by Abby!
* * *
Becca: ‘Abby may come across as kind and supportive, but she’s a liar. She manipulates you into liking her, then stabs you in the back. Daniel is not going to choose someone like that.’
* * *
Touché, Becca! What a formidable sparring partner you’re proving to be. And, as we’ve seen from Abby’s behaviour over the past few episodes, Becca is bang on with her accusations. But will Abby get her just desserts?
* * *
This is where the episode gets really interesting in a plot twist so extreme, M. Night Shyamalan just phoned and asked the producers for a consult on his next script.
* * *
Becca’s confessional wraps up with: ‘Anyway, Daniel told me he’s choosing me.’
* * *
Now, I am no mathematician but one man divided by two women equals disaster! Or, in some states in the US, polygamy. Seeing as this is Sydney and not Utah, ‘disaster’ it is!
* * *
Time for the Pin Ritual to end all Pin Rituals!
* * *
There he is, our Staggy, Daniel, handsome in that two-button, slim lapel tuxedo, the late afternoon Australian sun glinting off his flawless blonde hair. Daniel awaits his first Doe, Gordo looking on benevolently. And there she is, our Abby, splendid in a flowing red gown that shows off her curvaceous figure. She walks slowly down the path to Daniel, who’s grinning like an idiot proudly, almost like an expectant groom.
* * *
On the beach, pinpoints of light dancing on the water behind them and gentle waves lapping against the shore, they face each other. Daniel, suddenly a man of few words, takes the much-coveted pin from his pocket and reaches towards Abby’s neckline. ‘Abby will you wear this pin?’
* * *
I am on the edge of my sofa with anticipation―this is exactly what Abby hoped for and she’s the first Dark Horse to ever become the Bride.
* * *
‘I’m sorry, Daniel, I cannot accept your pin.’
* * *
WHAT?
* * *
‘You see, I know how torn you are. You’ve told both me and Becca that you’ve chosen us.’
* * *
Daniel blinks and gawps―a goldfish out of water―then recovers. ‘I want to be with you.’
* * *
‘You may, but you also want to be with Becca and I can’t be with someone who’s unsure of his feelings.’
* * *
‘I choose you. You’re bright, you’re selfless, and you will put me in my place when I need it.’
* * *
‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I cannot accept. But I wish you every happiness.’ And with that, Abby retreats into the Manor. Stag lovers, when have we ever seen a Doe say ‘no’ in the finale?! Well, I can tell you that and it’s never!
* * *
Poor Daniel! But he won’t be forlorn for much longer, as here comes the lovely Becca. As far as consolation prizes go, she far exceeds a kitchen appliance and doesn’t she look a picture in that champagne-coloured dress―no doubt a signpost of celebrations to come.
* * *
Daniel, having recovered miraculously from Abby’s refusal of his pin, smiles winsomely at Becca as he takes her hands in his. Again, Gordo presides and I can’t help wondering if we’re about to witness a proposal and a wedding! (Surely, Gordo is ordained, right?)
* * *
Daniel finds his words again and extols Becca’s virtues (which, for him, seem to start and stop with her looks) ‘Becca, you are a beautiful woman, and I’ve had a lovely time getting to know you. This was not a difficult decision. I choose you.’
* * *
Not content with perching on the edge of the sofa, I am now seated on the floor directly in front of the television.
* * *
‘I’m sorry, Daniel, but I can’t be with you.’
* * *
WHAT IS HAPPENING, PLEASE?
* * *
Daniel has turned from a ‘goldfish out of water’ into an ‘enormous bug-eyed fish out of water’―apologies, I know I could have conducted an online search for the name of said fish, but I am too flabbergasted!
* * *
‘What do you mean?’ he asks after gawping for (it certainly feels like) several minutes.
* * *
Becca’s reply will be indelibly inked on my mind. ‘I heard you with Abby, Daniel, and I don’t want her sloppy seconds. I’m worth more than that. Much more. More than you could ever offer me.’
* * *
I could turn off the episode here and be completely happy―no, that’s not the right word. Elated. Empowered. Breaking into ‘I AM WOMAN!’ at full voice.
* * *
But before I can reach for the remote, Daniel does something very un-suave and not remotely sophisticated. He storms off in a colossal toddler-style huff. I listen for a slamming door, but it doesn’t come – though, those bifold glass doors are quite difficult to close.
* * *
And now for one last treat from the producers.
In lieu of a romantic happily ever after, we get a ‘wromantic’ one with Becca and Abby reconciling on the beach. ‘Please forgive me for being such a massive cow,’ wails Abby, redeeming herself in my eyes if not Becca�
�s. ‘I got all caught up in it and forgot who I was.’ Aww.
* * *
Becca hugs her, calls her a ‘dag’ (another not-so-charming expression from the Australians), and the music swells as our top two Does are silhouetted against a stunning Sydney sky at sunset.
‘Well, what do you think?’ asks Jack.
Jack, Harry, Becca, and I are in the Control Room and we’ve just finished watching the final cut of the finale. After Becca’s refusal, which was included in the episode verbatim, Daniel did storm off. Apparently, not staying for a final confessional was a breach of contract, and Jack got him to agree to the storyline that the four of us pieced together after the shoot.
We reshot Becca’s confessional, so I could be seen in the background, and if viewers bother to go back to the Daniel–Abby scene, they’ll see Becca hiding behind a tree over my shoulder. We filmed me walking down to the beach, then back up to the Manor, and the rest of the Pin Ritual was edited together from existing footage.
And, of course, Becca and I happily filmed our reconciliation on the beach. Although we’d worked out a loose script ahead of time, I meant every word I said―about Becca and how much I adore her and value our friendship, but also about me.
I had forgotten who I was―only not during the filming of The Stag but a long time ago. I’ve spent the last several years hiding in my little flat, writing under a pen name, barely raising my head, let alone going out into the world and getting amongst it. How am I supposed to become a real journalist, someone with something to say, if all my experiences are vicarious? Sure, online research is a start, but if I really want to establish myself in the profession, I need to leave the flat.
‘It’s brilliant,’ I say to Jack, right as Becca says, ‘Awesome. You guys did a great job.’ She’s right. No doubt, this finale will drive ratings through the roof―even Roberta couldn’t fault it. I’m also betting that Prue will love my final recap and perhaps, one day, forgive me for abandoning my exposé.
‘Hey, it was your quick thinking that saved us,’ Harry says to Becca. ‘God, I was packing myself when Abby pulled that stunt―sorry, Abby, but I was.’
‘No, absolutely justified.’
Jack reaches for my hand and I grasp his. ‘You were both terrific,’ he says. ‘Look, this is “reality TV”’ ―he waggles a finger for the air quotes― ‘and over the years, we’ve reshot dozens of scenes, right Harry?’
‘Oh, yeah―and there’s the creative editing.’ They chuckle.
‘But don’t you reckon this is our best effort?’ continues Jack.
‘Aw, yeah, for sure, no question. And, with any luck, one of our last, eh?’ The brothers exchange a hopeful look. ‘So, whaddya reckon, cause for a celebration?’ asks Harry as he stands and stretches his arms above his head. I catch Becca staring at Harry’s T-shirt straining against his biceps and wonder if something might spark between them.
‘I’ll see what’s in the fridge,’ says Harry, opening the door.
‘I’ll help you,’ says Becca. This time, Jack and I share a look and when the door closes behind them, he turns in his chair to face me, our knees touching.
‘You’re amazing,’ he says to me quietly, his gaze intense.
‘I am?’ I don’t typically fish for compliments but, right now, I’m all kinds of interested in exactly how amazing I am.
‘Yeah, you and Becca―you saved our arses.’ Oh, he’s talking about the show.
‘Well, you’re welcome.’ I hope I’ve tempered my tone enough to disguise my disappointment.
‘And you are amazing, Abby. Just you.’
‘Oh.’
‘You’re beautiful, you’re clever, you’re funny …’ his voice gets quieter as his lips get closer to mine. ‘Thoughtful, talented, and extremely sexy.’ Disappointment has left the building!
‘As much as I enjoy being told how wonderful I am, will you please kiss me?’
His chuckle tickles my lips as he touches those perfect, perfect lips to mine. This kiss is the best kiss in the history of the universe, eclipsing all other kisses we’ve shared―all other kisses that anyone has ever shared! His lips are soft and full and they move against mine, fervent and hungry, as though tasting me is knowing me. His tongue touches mine, our breath mingles and―
‘Oh, my god, you two! I mean it, get a fricking room.’ Harry―again. We spring apart―again. And Jack releases a string of obscenities at his brother.
‘Fine! I’m going. I just wanted to tell you we’ve opened a bottle of bubbly.’
‘Out!’ Jack bellows, his commanding tone doing wonders for my insides. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says when the door closes for the second time.
I giggle. ‘It’s fine. But I am very much looking forward to not being in the Manor, just being …’ I trail off, reality intruding on my Manor bubble.
‘Just being together, alone?’ I nod, my recently warmed insides turning squidgy with nerves―the bastards. ‘That’s what I want too, Abby.’
‘Really? But what can even hap―’ God, I can’t even say it. I stare hard at an errant paperclip on the floor.
‘Hey, look at me.’ I do, reluctantly. This is suddenly all too serious―another bubble in our land of make-believe bursting in the glaring light of reality. ‘I’m not a cad, Abby. I don’t scout my own shows for women to sleep with. I’ve never done that.’
‘No! I would never think that of you.’ It’s true. I’ve never thought that Jack was a player. It’s just … what can possibly come of this?
‘Good, because you know how you told Daniel that you’d fallen for me?’ How could I forget? Not only was it out of my mouth before I could even consider the implications, I’ve replayed it in my mind a thousand times since. I nod again. ‘Man, that was … that was awesome.’ It was? ‘I mean, yeah, we’ve been sneaking around and Harry’s been on my arse to stop watching you all the time―he said it was becoming really obvious―but I didn’t know if it was just me or …’
‘If I felt the same,’ I say, finishing his thought. So, we’d both been uncertain.
‘Yes, exactly. So, when you said that … Abby, I’m crazy about you. And I know we live in different countries, but we’re both able to work from anywhere, right? I mean, I can look for gigs in the UK, you can come here and write, and when Harry and I start our production company … well, we can figure that out then.’
‘You’ve given this a lot of thought.’
‘Of course I have, Abby!’ he says, grinning.
Then my monkey mind settles on one thought: ‘Jack wants to be with me. Jack wants to be with me.’
Flirtation. Fling. Crush. Bit of crumpet on the side.
No.
A proper, grown-up relationship with a proper, grown-up man, a man who champions my aspirations, who sees me as I really am, who does wonders to my insides just with a look, and who thinks I’m brilliant and beautiful. Oh, tick, tick, tick! Thank you, karma, or Cadmus, or the universe! Whoever or whatever, thank you!
‘It’s been really fricking hard keeping my mind on the show―another reason Harry’s shitty with me. Seriously, I owe him big time! And he will never let me forget it.’ We share another laugh, mine steeped in relief and joy and a myriad of other emotions. ‘But let’s forget about all that―for now, anyway.’
The timbre of his voice drops, and I’m suddenly aware of how firm his hands are on my thighs as they pull me closer to him. ‘What do you say we have a celebratory drink with Harry and Becca, then I take you home to my place?’ he asks quietly, almost shyly.
I stare into those vibrant green eyes, my insides ablaze with delicious tingles. ‘Oh, I’d absolutely love that.’
A mix of elation and lust flashes across his face in an instant as he grins at me. ‘Awesome.’ He smacks a kiss on my lips, stands and reaches for my hand. ‘Come on.’
‘Wait. Just us, though, right? Not Harry? I mean, I know he lives there too …’
‘Oh, no. My brother can find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Hell, we’v
e got this place for a couple more days. He can stay here for all I care.’
‘Perfect,’ I say, grinning and taking his hand.
Epilogue
The Stag in Sydney: Where are they now?
by Anastasia Blabbergasted
Well, well, well. It has been several months now since the finale of the most twisty-turny season in The Stag’s history and this recapper has only just recovered from that vertiginous ride. Here’s hoping you have too, as Isle of Passion and I’m Super Famous, I Want Out are just around the corner.
