The Shelf

by Helly Acton

  ‘What’s your message to him?’ asks Amy.

  Flick takes a seat slowly on the back of the sofa and brushes her hair off her face.

  She smiles. ‘I hope I’m making you proud.’

  Jackie lets out a snort.

  ‘OK, so I do have to fucking do this,’ shouts Gemma as she returns from the Chat Room, ‘or I’ll be evicted tomorrow, no matter what the votes are. Dickheads. Hattie, I’m really sorry, babes. I wish I didn’t have to.’

  Hattie lifts her head. ‘It’s OK, Gem. I’d like you to pass on a message to Dylan.’ There’s a resolute look in her eye.

  ‘Sure, babes, anything for you.’

  ‘Tell him he’ll never call me names again, or text me incessantly at work or drunkenly rant about me for hours downstairs while I’m trying to get just one hour of sleep before my next shift. I am done supporting a loser who lounges around all day doing bugger all with his life. I want more from mine. This time it’s forever. I am not coming back.’

  The housemates look at her with mixed expressions of pity, anger and pride.

  ‘We’re proud of you, Hats,’ says Amy, squeezing her shoulder. ‘Sounds like that might be the best decision you ever made.’

  ‘Hattie, you leave it with me.’ Gemma stands up, puts her hands on her hips. ‘Now, where are the scissors? I think someone’s tie might need a quick trim.’

  Seventeen

  Amy’s back in the Therapy Room, watching Dr Hicks take a painfully long time to arrange his notes on the table. He eventually finds them and looks at her through glasses resting on the end of his nose.

  ‘So, Amy. In our last session a week ago, I asked you to complete an assignment about your relationship. Have you given it some thought?’

  ‘I have.’ She swallows. She feels self-conscious about revealing her innermost thoughts to the people who are watching. Although she’s more concerned about her friends and family than strangers. And she hopes Jamie is listening.

  ‘Let’s start with the first question. When did Jamie make you feel happy in your relationship?’

  ‘I’m better at writing than talking, so I’m just going to read out my bullet points.’

  ‘Whatever makes you comfortable.’

  ‘OK, here goes.’ She breathes out and takes a deep breath in.

  ‘Jamie made me feel happy in my relationship when he made me feel like my opinion mattered to him. When he messaged me without needing a reason. When he wanted to see my friends, and when he was the life and soul of the party. When he talked like I was part of his future. When he introduced me to his friends as Mrs O’Connor. When the conversations weren’t always about money. When he made me laugh, but with jokes that weren’t at my expense. When he wanted to be with me, every single night. When he told me he’d never met anyone that suited him more, and that we would travel the world together.’

  She coughs to emphasise her next and final point.

  ‘But I can’t remember the last time any of that happened.’

  Dr Hicks pauses for a while, smiles at her and taps out some notes on his iPad.

  ‘OK, thank you, Amy. And moving on to the second question. When did Jamie make you feel unhappy in your relationship?’ he asks.

  With the same preparation, she puts mind over matter and ignores the tremble in her voice.

  ‘When he stopped inviting me to the pub with his friends, and when he stopped coming to the pub with mine. When he went from being the life and soul of the party to being the no-show. When he told me it was weird how I wanted to see my parents so much, and when he was too busy to come when I went. When the only things he cared about were his business and his body.

  ‘When he forgot where I worked, a few months ago. When he started texting at the dinner table and then taking calls. When there stopped being a dinner table at all. When he only wanted to sleep with me when he was drunk or hung-over. When he stopped greeting me in the morning. And then kissing me goodnight. When he said I was boring. When he joked about my double chin, my bingo wings, my hearty rump steak thighs.

  ‘When he gave me a key to his place, but told me I had to let him know when I was coming round. When he made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t an invite to move in with him. When he made me feel like I was his future one second, and then a guest in his home the next. When he called me Piglet.’

  Dr Hicks looks at her with kind eyes.

  ‘And tell me, Amy, how does it feel to get that down on paper?’

  She flashes back to the steaming-hot shower she took after writing this list. As she scrubbed herself clean, she tried to visualise all her relationship doubts, fears and anxieties being washed down the plughole. She imagined shedding her skin and stepping out of the shower as a brand-new Amy.

  ‘It feels good to get it out in the open. I’ve spent the last year pretending to everyone, myself included, that Jamie and I were going somewhere, and making excuses for his behaviour. But exposing the truth, accepting the truth and then putting it out in the open for everyone to hear isn’t something I feel ashamed of anymore. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.’

  Dr Hicks taps a few slow notes and looks up at her. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Amy. It’s not easy to break habits. Don’t focus on what you did then, focus on what you’re doing now. I’m here to help you develop a deeper understanding of who you are and what will make you happy.’ He smiles at her. ‘Which brings me on to the last question of the assignment.’ He looks at his papers. ‘Name what you need to feel happy in a relationship.’

  Amy clears her throat.

  ‘To feel happy, I need to feel that a relationship has a purpose. To really mean something for both of us. I want someone who makes me feel that my life is richer with them in it, and that I in turn enrich theirs. Take my relationship with my best friend, Sarah. Why can’t I find that same sense of togetherness with a partner? I want to be part of an unbreakable team. We don’t even have to be a winning team – we can be happy losing together because all that matters is that we’re together and we have each other’s backs, through thick and thin.’

  ‘Did Jamie ever fulfil any of those needs?’

  She sighs. ‘No. In the first six months, maybe. Not at the end. Jamie made me feel like I was a kink in the chain, not a cog in the wheel. And all he added to my life was a load of new insecurities. I want someone to tell me that they love everything about me, warts, double chins, bingo wings and all. But am I expecting too much from a relationship? Am I being high-maintenance? Do relationships like that even exist in real life?’

  ‘Amy,’ he says, sitting up. ‘Treat your break-up like it’s given you a blank canvas. On this blank canvas you can paint a new future, full of everything you need to feel happy. Stop caring about whether people think you’re demanding. Ignore the critics, and stop looking at what other people are painting. Focus on yourself. Take your time. And stop denying yourself the happiness that’s true for you. What does your painting look like?’

  ‘A beach in Thailand?’ She shrugs her shoulders and laughs a little.

  ‘Why not?’ He smiles back as he stands up and walks over to a screen on the wall. He switches it on and then turns around.

  ‘I’d like to move on from your relationship to talk about your life goals, starting with the motherhood challenge. I watched you closely with baby Ben, and would like to ask you a few questions.’ He looks up.

  ‘OK.’ She laughs nervously, worried about having to defend her score and the amount of food in Ben’s stomach.

  ‘So, what are your life goals?’ he asks.

  Big question.

  She pauses for a few seconds to think.

  Start a blog.

  Travel the world.

  Have adventures.

  Find love.

  Have a family.

  Make a home.

  Be free.

  ‘Amy?’ he interrupts. ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m thinking I want to have it all. But I know that having it all i
s impossible. I want to settle down, but I also want to travel. I want children, but I also want my freedom. The truth is, when I see babies, I don’t feel broody – I feel anxious. They’re like little anchors. But I shouldn’t feel like that at my age, should I? How can I want a home and want to sleep in a tent on the edge of a ravine? It’s like I’m two Amys. I have one foot on the plane and one foot on the runway, and I can’t work out what will fulfil me more. Right now, I don’t feel excited by the thought of buying a house, having a family and climbing the career ladder. But I do when I imagine being a sweaty, squashed sardine on the Khao San Road, trying to hail a tuk-tuk with a laptop in my bag, breathing in all that dust, all those fumes and spices.’

  She pauses, imagining being in Bangkok.

  Nothing is stopping you from leaving. You could walk out of here. You could be there tomorrow if you wanted.

  She blinks out of her daydream.

  ‘But then the bells of doom sound like gongs, warning me that time is running out and that it’s too late to chase dreams like that.’

  She sighs loudly and digs her thumbnail into her finger. ‘The intrepid explorer in me retired years ago. I had my chance and I didn’t take it. I chose Jamie, and I have to live with that. I just wish I could stop dreaming of making a quick escape. I’m so tired of hearing the voice in my head tempting me to jump on a plane this instant and leave everything behind. It’s not normal. It’s blurring my vision and cluttering my head.’

  ‘Amy, normal is a standard that you’ve set by comparing yourself to others,’ says Dr Hicks. ‘You could aspire to be the most natural version of yourself. That way, the only point of comparison is you. If you don’t feel ready to settle down, then that is you being natural. Perhaps you will change in a few years. Perhaps you won’t.’

  ‘But I do want to have kids, Dr Hicks, I just wish I didn’t feel rushed into it because of my age. I would make a rubbish mother right now.’

  He switches on the screen in the room.

  ‘You’re thirty-two, Amy, not fifty-two. There’s time for kids, and the worst thing you could do is rush that kind of decision. For the record, I’m inclined to agree that you’re not quite ready. Take a look at this.’ He smiles as he presses the clicker.

  Clip one shows the first time Amy saw Ben screaming in his cot. She recoils, then she pulls a contorted face that’s a mix of terror and revulsion. Clip two shows Amy holding Ben on her hip and walking through the bedroom door, hitting his head hard on the door frame, and then looking around to see if anyone saw before picking a splinter out of his forehead. Clip three shows Amy sprinting into the bathroom to rescue Ben from an overflowing sink where he’s floating face down. Clip four shows her and Jackie next to the prosecco tap, replacing their baby formula with the contents of a third glass. And then feeding their babies, while collapsing on the floor in hysterics.

  ‘Shall we carry on?’ he says, one eyebrow raised comically.

  ‘OK, I get it. But these are plastic dolls. I wouldn’t do that to a real baby!’ She laughs.

  Dr Hicks stops the montage and switches the TV off.

  ‘Yes, of course, I know that. You aren’t a monster. But Oh, Baby! was meant to give you a real indication of whether childcare comes naturally to you. Whether you enjoy all that responsibility. How ready you are for it. Now that you’ve completed the challenge, I have one final question for you. Do you feel ready?’

  After a few seconds, she says, ‘No.’

  ‘OK. I’m delighted we’ve managed to end the session on a high by clearing one internal conflict from your mind. Motherhood can wait.’

  When she leaves Dr Hicks, Amy feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She makes straight for the bedroom, to find the rest of the housemates helping Gemma choose the outfit she’s going to wear on her date.

  Hattie looks nervous about what’s unfolding.

  ‘Hattie, don’t worry, hon,’ Gemma says with a serious expression. ‘I’m not dressing up for your ex. I just want to show the public how I scrub up!’ She smiles, pulling her entire wardrobe out and onto the bed, before picking out three dresses.

  ‘I’m not worried about that – I just hate the idea of you meeting him. I’m embarrassed. You’re going to think I was nuts being with him.’

  ‘I think he’s nuts for dumping you in here, but I’m glad he did.’

  Gemma looks at the dresses. One’s a black spandex mini, the second is a pink leather playsuit and the third is a tight white lace dress, the low-cut back of which sits below the top of her bum.

  A moment later she’s in the final dress, modelling it around the bedroom. ‘It’s called bum cleavage! It’s like boob cleavage, but on your butt! Don’t you love it?’

  ‘Darlin’, you would look class with a condom on your head,’ says Jackie. ‘Just make sure there’s enough stretch in that dress to pull a punch if you need to.’

  ‘Easy!’ she says, as she crouches down in her five-inch heels, punches a left hook then an uppercut, followed by a roundhouse kick.

  Flick stands in the corner with her arms folded. ‘You can’t go out like that. Half your bottom is hanging out! At least put some knickers on.’

  Gemma stops and looks upset. ‘Yeah, all right, Dad. I can’t wear knickers, it will hide my bum cleavage. And that’s the best bit.’

  Flick shakes her head and tuts. ‘And you wonder why we get catcalled. I can’t wait to see the comments on The Wall tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s not my fault men can’t control themselves. My body, my image, my choice. Boom. Or should I say bum?’ she says, jiggling her bottom.

  ‘Well, when I have a daughter, she’s never going to be allowed out looking like that.’

  ‘Flick, for fuck’s sake, get with the times, hon.’ Gemma struts out from the bathroom, twirls and swishes her hair. ‘Women shouldn’t have to hide their bodies just because men are so basic they can’t handle a bit of flesh without getting a boner.’

  The housemates gather round the TV. On screen, Dylan is pacing up and down in The Secret Garden next door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting black shirt with white pinstripes, jeans that are too big for him and shiny black dress shoes. Impossibly, it makes him look even younger than before, wearing his teenage gamer uniform. The producers have gone to town with festoon lighting, candles, red roses and a bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket. In any other situation, it would be romantic.

  For the first time ever, Hattie has crept above position five on The Tracker. Clearly, this Dylan date has got the viewers talking.

  ‘He’s made such an effort,’ Hattie says softly. ‘I can’t remember him ever making that kind of effort for me.’

  Amy catches Lauren’s eye and Kathy rubs Hattie’s back. Hattie drops her head in her hands and sniffs.

  ‘Hattie, my love’ – Lauren shifts closer to her on the sofa – ‘you are gonna find someone who makes an effort for you every day. I have a good feeling about it, and I have a strong gut. You deserve someone who treats you like a gift, and you’ll find them. You’re a top prize, and don’t you for a second ever think you’re anything less. That clown out there is a fookin’ idiot, and you don’t want a fookin’ idiot in your life.’

  They all look up when they hear The Secret Garden door slam. Gemma strides in confidently, muttering hello. Dylan scuttles to her chair and draws it back for her to sit down.

  ‘Ah, bless.’ Flick smiles. ‘Nice to see that chivalry isn’t dead.’

  As Gemma sits down, Dylan cranes his neck forward and stares down her back, with his mouth open and his tongue visible.

  ‘Oh. Oh dear,’ Kathy says, looking over at Hattie.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Hattie cries. ‘Look at him, he’s staring at her like a dog at his dinner!’

  ‘He is a dog, Hattie.’ Jackie walks behind her and rubs her shoulders. ‘He’s a fucking little chihuahua with his tiny lipstick out.’

  Dylan eventually moves, taking the champagne bottle out of the bucket as he sits down. After too many attempt
s to open it, Gemma grabs it from him and pops it open with a karate chop of her hand.

  ‘Wow, wicked trick.’ Dylan laughs, then stops when she doesn’t. ‘You look nice. I like your dress. Especially the back of it.’ He winks at her. And unleashes hell.

  ‘Jesus Christ, mate, how fucking old are you?’ Gemma shouts. ‘Is that the first time you’ve seen a female arse before? I know it can’t be, because you were lucky enough to have that godsend Hattie in your life. Fuck knows how – you were seriously punching. And Hattie is sitting there on her perfect peach, watching you perve down my back like a horny teenager. You know, I’m actually glad she saw you do that. It’ll make her realise just how pathetic you really are. Grow up, and show some fucking respect.’

  ‘Good God!’ Flick folds her arms and shakes her head. ‘How on earth can she be a keeper when she behaves like that? Men would run a mile. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame them. She has absolutely no shame.’

  ‘YASSS, Gemma!’ shouts Jackie. ‘Queen!’

  Amy looks across at Hattie. Her eyes are closed. And although her cheeks are still shining from a few sliding tears, she has a smile on her face, like she’s listening to the world’s sweetest lullaby.

  In blissful ignorance that tomorrow, one of them will be gone.

  Eighteen

  ‘That woman is on a different fucking planet. Flick is so far away she can’t see how insensitive she is being,’ Jackie mutters to Amy in the bedroom. They received a singing telegram at breakfast earlier, merrily delivering unpleasant news. Tonight is The Shelf’s first live eviction.

  Everyone is on edge. Even Zen master Kathy snapped at Flick earlier for saying wives shouldn’t put children before husbands, and how she’d never dream of making Simon feel second best when they’re married with kids, because doing so would give him a licence to stray.

  ‘But I don’t think she’s a bad person,’ Amy whispers back to Jackie. ‘She just doesn’t think before she speaks. She forgets who’s listening. I don’t think that comment was a dig at Kathy. It’s like she says these things out loud so that Simon can hear. She did say sorry afterwards. I think she felt terrible.’