by Katie Price
‘And you’ve kept your accent? Very impressive!’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s not going anywhere! I go back up north quite a bit, to see friends and play rugby. Hove is a wonderful place to live though, have you been?’
‘Yeah, my sister had her thirtieth birthday in Brighton a couple of years ago. Great clubs.’
‘Hove is beautiful. Maybe I’ll show you some time.’ It was the flirtiest comment Luke had made since they’d met and he looked mildly embarrassed to have said it, scratching his head and quickly changing the subject. ‘You know, for work. In case you wanted to film anything there.’
Jas smiled and moved the subject on to life in the north compared to the south. An hour later, drinks finished, she called it a night. She had an early spin class the next morning and was more than happy to leave Monica propping up the bar with Harry and some of the news team.
On the Tube home, Jas reflected on her evening. Luke was handsome, there was no doubt about it. She loved living in London but always maintained that northern boys had the best manners. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed her stop home. Walking back to her flat, she suddenly thought of Richard. It was hard not to, given that they had so much history together here, walking these streets, sharing the flat … The weight of the impending divorce dawned on her anew and she told herself not to think about Luke any more that night. Firmly, she reminded herself that romance was – had to be – the last thing on her mind right now.
Chapter 5
‘Now, full breath out and slowly roll up. Make sure your head is the last thing to come up aaaaand – you’re done! Well done, everybody, fantastic workout today. Give yourself a round of applause!’
Twenty women, sweaty and red-faced, clapped their hands wearily as they trudged out of the studio. The instructor, Charlotte Truss, who’d barely broken a sweat, started picking up and putting away the bars, steps and mats. One of her regular attendees, a sweet older woman, helped.
‘Don’t worry, Linda, I can handle this. Go and have coffee with the rest of the group.’
After the class, most of the women – housewives in Barnet – would have a leisurely coffee at the café at Fitness First. But Charlotte was always on the go. After she’d finished here, she’d be off to teach another Body Goals class at a gym in Crouch End. And later she was visiting her best friend Maya and her son – Charlotte’s five-year-old Godson Rafi.
‘They’ll wait for me,’ replied Linda. ‘I want to hear all about that boy you were seeing! I’ve been married for forty years, Charley, I have to live my life vicariously through you! What was his name? Jamie? With the Ferrari? He sounded very exciting.’
Charlotte piled step blocks on top of each other. ‘Yeah, well, exciting is one way of putting it. Flakey is another. He texted me every day for two months, but now I haven’t heard from him for a week. I rang him and he said he was at his grandma’s because she was sick.’ She sighed. ‘He promised to call me back but didn’t. Then I looked on his Facebook page and there were pictures of him at a club surrounded by girls.’
‘Oh, love. Not again. We do need to find you a nice boy!’
‘I don’t get it, Lind. He seemed genuinely sweet. We went on loads of dates before we … you know. He never pressured me or anything, he was a complete gentleman. And he really opened up to me. Or I thought he did anyway. Now, completely out of the blue, he’s disappeared! I’ve been texting him every day, a few times a day, but nothing.’
Linda came to the Body Goals class twice a week without fail and always pressed Charlotte for gossip about her private life, which Charlotte was happy to divulge, except it was usually heartbreak and let-downs rather than romance. To say Charlotte had a bad track record with men was an understatement. It was like she was programmed to fall only for bad men. With her curvy, petite and gym-honed body, glossy shoulder-length dark hair and caramel-coloured skin, men flocked to her. But she was also sweet-natured, only saw the best in people and was a true romantic at heart, which seemed to make her a magnet for players. It was the same pattern every time. At first, they were begging to see her, but as soon as they’d been dating for a bit the guy would lose interest and be on to the next conquest. Maya always scolded her for picking the wrong men but even the shy, not-that-great-looking guys screwed her over. True love was all she’d ever wanted. She was still only twenty-three but she longed to have children of her own and to find a decent man to settle down with. Her parents had been happily married for thirty years and Charlotte wanted what they had.
She must be doing something wrong, no matter how hard she tried to ‘play it cool’, as Maya would always advise. In lieu of a boyfriend Charlotte busied herself with her job, partly to keep herself occupied and partly so she could save up and one day buy her own place. At least the job was varied, interesting, social and kept her in great shape. Charlotte loved to exercise and, furthermore, loved helping other people feel good about themselves. Was it too much to ask for a nice man who had the same interests and shared her dreams?
‘It’s these young boys,’ tutted Linda. ‘You need an older man, love. Someone more mature. I keep telling you that my Quentin would be perfect for you.’
Charlotte tried not to smirk as she dismantled her microphone headset. Linda had been trying to set Charlotte up with her son Quentin for months. The poor woman had no idea that Quentin, with his perfect abs and impeccable dress sense, was as gay as the day was long. Charlotte saw him in the gym all the time and it wasn’t her he was eyeing up, but the male instructors.
‘Thanks, Lind, I’ll bear it in mind.’
By the end of the week, Jamie still hadn’t been in touch and Charlotte was devastated, repeatedly going over and over in her mind what on earth could have gone wrong. Was it something she said? Something she did? She’d really thought he was different. When would she learn?
She tried her best to distract herself with work, teaching her regular classes and covering for another instructor at Fitness First who was away. Charlotte taught Body Goals, Legs, Bums and Tums, Aerobicise and Abs Attack. Her warm, friendly nature made her a hit with members and she loved her job. The salary wasn’t great, but she lived with her parents in Mill Hill and only paid a small amount in rent, which enabled her to save up for her own place. Her car cost a small fortune to run but was essential as she taught classes all around North London and needed to zip about quickly.
On Friday afternoon, after taking Rafi to feed the ducks and then for pizza, Charlotte drove him back to Maya’s at 5 p.m. She checked her phone again for any word from Jamie. There was none. She put her phone on silent mode and stuffed it into her bag, in an attempt to forget about it and not check it obsessively.
‘Was he okay?’ Maya asked, hugging her son tightly after she’d flung open the door. Charlotte threw her khaki Misguided bomber jacket over the sofa. When she wasn’t in gym gear her look was skinny jeans and ankle boots. ‘A dream, as always. Do you want to finish dinner while I give him a bath?’
‘Ah, I love you! Would you mind? I’ve got some pasta on the go for Rob and some nice chicken salad for us. Wait a minute, it’s Friday night. Haven’t you somewhere to be?’ Charlotte wished she had. All her other mates were cosying up with their boyfriends. She shrugged and silently sloped upstairs to get Rafi ready for bed. Maya still hadn’t come up after bathtime so Charlotte brushed his teeth and got him in pyjamas. Then, Maya appeared at her son’s bedroom door dressed in a short black dress and blue high heels.
‘Maya, what the hell?’
‘Come on, Rafi, say night-night to Charley. She’s going to get changed into the dress Mummy left out for her while I read you a story and put you to bed.’ Rafi rifled through his books, carefully selecting The Hungry Caterpillar, and Maya turned to Charlotte.
‘Rob’s home now and I’ve told him we need a girls’ night out. There’s an open bottle of prosecco downstairs, grab yourself a glass and get ready. I’m sure your insanely gorgeous body could squeeze into one of my Topshop dresses. Now go.
I’ll get this little tiger to sleep.’
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t exactly in the mood but she was so touched by her friend’s gesture that she scurried to get ready. Why shouldn’t she have a night out?
They hit four cocktail bars in Camden before dancing into the early hours at Lock 17, a bar playing everything from Motown to Madonna. It was exactly the sort of fun-filled Friday night that Charlotte needed. She was having so much fun, and Maya was the one taking pictures on her phone all night, that it was only when she reached into her bag to order an Uber that Charlotte realised she’d left her phone at her friend’s. Maya called a cab and, home at 2 a.m., Charlotte passed out on her friend’s sofa, blissfully unware that, while Jamie still hadn’t been in touch, there were three missed calls from another number.
Chapter 6
Charlotte woke at 8 a.m. to the sound of Rafi singing along to Frozen. Her head was banging. Thank God she didn’t have to teach a class until 4 p.m.! Saturdays were her one chilled day of the week.
‘This is my favourite bit, Charley!’
Charlotte winced. She loved her Godson but this was one of the few times she was glad she wasn’t a parent. Maya staggered into the room holding two cups of tea and handed one to Charlotte. ‘Every morning,’ she muttered, motioning to the TV.
Charlotte felt around for her phone. She’d fallen asleep before she’d had a chance to check it. She scrolled through her notifications: a WhatsApp message from her mum asking her to pick up milk on her way home, a few new matches on Tinder and an email sent at 9:04 p.m. last night.
Hi Charlotte,
I’m the producer for Mr Right and am getting in touch about your recent application to be a contestant on the new series of the show. We loved what we saw and I wondered if you could come to the Channel 6 office on Monday to meet me, my assistant producer and the head of programming. We’re in the final stages of selection now and hope to decide on all the contestants by the end of next week. Please call me back to let me know when you can come in. I’m taking calls this weekend so the sooner the better.
I’ve tried to ring you a few times today. If you get this can you confirm I have the correct number for you?
Thanks and best wishes,
Jasmine Whiteley
After reading and rereading the email, Charlotte sat up straight. ‘Bloody hell!’
‘What’s up?’ Maya asked, trying to prise Rafi away from the biscuit tin and towards a banana.
‘Remember when we went up to Liverpool for your birthday a few weeks ago? To Kingley’s?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Charlotte took a deep breath, crossed her legs and turned to her friend. ‘I never told you this, but in the toilets I overheard these women talking. They were saying that they were up in Liverpool looking for girls to appear on a new reality TV show where all these women compete for the attention of a guy. Anyway, I did some research when we got back to London …’
Maya was listening intently as Charlotte filled her in on the premise of the show.
‘Soooo, I uploaded an application form online. I’ve just seen an email the producer sent me last night and she wants me to come to her office asap to talk it through!’
Maya put her hands to her face. ‘What! Wow, Charlotte, that is so exciting! Why didn’t you tell me, silly?’
‘I was embarrassed. I thought it might seem desperate. And I didn’t think for a second anything would actually come of it.’ The words were spilling out now.
Maya tutted. ‘Well, something has come of it and I’m delighted you finally told me. Oooh, I can’t believe you’re going to be on TV. We have to get you the best outfits for Ibiza. Let’s diarise a shopping trip, pronto. Or shall we just do it all online now? When do you go? How long for?’
Charlotte was touched that her friend was as excited as she was, and did feel silly for not having been open with her to begin with, but wasn’t Maya getting a little ahead of herself ? ‘Hun, it’s just a meeting,’ she said. ‘It’s entirely possible that nothing will come of it.’
Maya shook her head. ‘You always doubt yourself. She emailed you at 9 p.m. on a Friday night. She wouldn’t do that unless she was serious. Plus, you’re single, drop-dead gorgeous, lovely, approachable and kind. The whole country will love you, let alone this dude!’
‘Don’t be daft.’ But then Charlotte paused. ‘So, if she asks me, you think I should do it?’
‘One hundred per cent, you should do it!’ Maya lifted Rafi onto her lap. He’d broken away from being engrossed in Frozen to wondering what his mum was chattering about. ‘You’re always saying that you want to shake things up in your life and do something crazy. Plus, you’re a hopeless romantic and you might actually meet someone great out there. I think you’d be crazy not to do it. We’ll vote for you, won’t we, Rafi? Won’t we? Yay!’
‘Yaaaaaay!’ The little boy started cheering, with no clue what he was cheering for.
‘Well, if I’ve got Raf ’s vote that’s all I need,’ laughed Charlotte. ‘Shall I phone her back now?’
‘She said straight away, didn’t she? Go for it! I want to hear every word.’
Charlotte kissed Maya on the cheek feeling, for the second time that weekend, a wave of gratitude that she had such a supportive best friend. She dialled Jas’s number, tapping her fingers against the phone as it rang. ‘Wish me luck.’
The following Monday Charlotte was waiting in the vast reception area of Channel 6 in London Bridge, nervously tapping her fingers, a habit she had whenever she was tense.
A tall, blonde woman approached her, smiling widely. ‘Charlotte Truss? Hi, I’m Jas. We spoke on the phone.’ Looking at Jas, dressed in cropped black trousers, a striped t-shirt and pink kitten heels, hair thrown up into a messy bun, Charlotte suddenly felt way overdressed in her tight dress and knee-high boots. But Jas had told her on the phone to wear whatever made her feel comfortable, and if she was auditioning to be on TV, Charlotte’s idea of comfort was as glamorous as possible! ‘You look great,’ said Jas warmly.
‘Really? Oh, thanks. I spend so much time in sweaty gym gear, any chance I have to make an impression, I really go for it. Although now I’m feeling a bit overdressed.’
‘Nonsense! It’s TV, we love a bit of glamour! Come on up and let’s have a proper chat.’
Charlotte liked Jas instantly, and found her extremely easy to talk to. She sat down on a sofa in an office overlooking the River Thames. There was a camera in front of Charlotte. Jas secured it to a tripod.
‘Just relax, Charlotte. I’m going to ask some questions, and when you answer me, look straight into the camera. The key is to be yourself. Viewers will want to get to know the real you and we’re looking for a mix of different personalities so everyone who is watching will have someone they can relate to. There’s no right or wrong here, I just want you to be as open and honest as you can. Sound okay?’
Charlotte nodded, wondering for the tenth time that day what on earth she was doing there – and whether she was making a huge, very embarrassing mistake. But the more they talked, the more Jas made Charlotte feel at ease. Charlotte proceeded to describe her job and how much she loved keeping fit and helping other people achieve their fitness goals, saying that eventually she wanted to start her own personal training business. She talked about her small family and quiet life in suburban North London.
‘And how did you hear about Mr Right?’
‘It’s a bit embarrassing, actually. I was up in Liverpool for my mate Maya’s birthday. A few of us were up for the weekend and went to Kingley’s. I, er, overheard you and your colleague talking about the show in the ladies’ cloakroom.’
Jas hit her forehead. ‘That’s where I know you from! I knew I’d seen you somewhere before! Why didn’t you come over?’
‘I was too embarrassed! Anyway, I went on the show’s website the next day and, after deliberating for hours, finally decided to upload my video application. I knew you’d get thousands of applicants. I never though
t I’d stand a chance.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t strike me as the sort of girl who wants to be on prime-time TV. Most of the contestants we’ve got are clearly desperate for their five minutes in the spotlight.’
Charlotte looked at her feet, tapping her fingers against the sofa. ‘I’ve never done anything with my life, really. I’ve always lived at home, always gone to the same places. This seemed exciting and impulsive so I thought, why not?
‘You know, Charlotte, even if you don’t win, a show like this is terrific exposure,’ Jas said. ‘You might be interviewed for a fitness magazine or bag some celebrity clients to train. You never know who’ll be watching.’
Charlotte lit up inside at that prospect. After a pause, she looked straight into the camera. ‘That’s really exciting. But, you know, the main reason I’m here is that I’m looking for love. My boyfriend history is so terrible, finding my very own Mr Right would be the biggest dream come true of all. Oh, God, that sounds so cheesy!’
Jas switched off the camera. ‘No, Charlotte, it was perfect. You’re perfect. Can you wait here a few minutes while I go fetch my boss? Have you got time to fill in some paperwork? I think we’d like to keep you here for a little while.’
Walking out of the Channel 6 offices a couple of hours later, Charlotte wasn’t sure if she’d just signed her life away, or signed up for the best experience so far. Either way, the ink was dry and it was official. She was going to be a contestant on Mr Right and in a few weeks’ time would be flying out to spend a couple of months in a villa in Ibiza! She’d never felt so excited or nervous. But what did she have to lose? The paperwork was all very clear and straightforward: she’d had to agree to lots of confidentiality clauses, promising she wouldn’t tell anyone except close family that she was going on the show, not reveal to anyone what went on in the villa, and certainly not talk to the press at any point. From the end of July, she and fourteen other girls would be living together in a villa, flights and all expenses paid, plus the show would compensate her for the money she was losing out on by not working at the gym.
