The Shelf

by Helly Acton

  Amy remembers her mum’s one piece of advice when it was getting serious with Jamie.

  Always have your own bank account, even if he seems like a saint.

  ‘But I am pleased to be here.’ Hattie smiles. ‘I couldn’t press STAY quick enough when they asked me! I want to prove to everyone that I’m not just Hattie the Fatty. Hippo, who’ll never achieve anything in her life. Don’t get me wrong, I have no idea what I’m doing and it scares the shit out of me. But the idea of going back to my old life is much scarier. Being here with you lot has really woken me up to what I could achieve on my own if I just took a chance. I just, you know, had a moment back there. I felt out of control. And the idea of seeing his greasy face again made me feel like running away.’

  Amy squeezes her hand.

  ‘Thanks, Ames. I’m going to remember that trick. It really helped. I’m going to go and join the others in the pool. Cool off a bit. Wanna come?’ Hattie stands up.

  Amy shakes her head. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet in here for a bit. Do some thinking. Figure out how I’m going to handle tonight.’

  ‘I think you’re going to handle it like an absolute boss.’ Hattie smiles as she opens the door.

  The idea of going back to my old life is much scarier. That comment in particular struck a chord. Being single isn’t scary. What’s scary is being stuck with someone who will make you miserable for the rest of your life. That’s the real campfire horror story.

  It isn’t long before Amy is reminded that there is no escape in here.

  ‘Hon, are you going to be long? I’m bursting!’ shouts Jackie with a rap on the door.

  ‘And that is why I like living alone,’ Amy whispers, standing up.

  Jackie doesn’t wait for her to leave before she pulls her bikini bottoms down.

  In the living room, Gemma’s eating from a jar of pickles with her legs spread in a wide V on top of the coffee table. In between each bite, she sips the vinegar.

  @tomjef2 #Gemma has literally zero self-respect #theshelf

  ‘Hey, Tommy J., I literally give zero fucks,’ she shouts.

  @tomjef2 OMG #GEMMA JUST SPOKE TO ME #famousnow #theshelf

  A tut comes from the dining room.

  Gemma cranes her neck towards Flick, who’s sitting at the table mending a button on Hattie’s blouse. She looks up and shrugs one shoulder.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Gemma, but they do have a point. I mean, aren’t you supposed to care about how you come across if you’re an influencer? Aren’t you worried you might lose followers if you look like a slob?’

  Gemma stares at her as she swallows another sip and exhales in satisfaction.

  ‘I can’t be picture-perfect all the time, Flick. It’s exhausting. Jason must be loving seeing me without my phone, letting it all hang out. Trapped in here all day and all night, where he can watch everything I’m doing.’

  Flick smiles. ‘Jason and Simon should form a club.’

  It’s the first time she’s mentioned Simon without a gushy follow-up about how brilliant he is.

  Amy got trapped earlier talking to her by the pool about their relationship. It was a soliloquy about when they first locked eyes at the surgery and the electricity was palpable. How funny it was that he thought she was the receptionist! How he swept her off her feet, taking her to the most expensive restaurants in Cambridge, trips to the opera in London, cocktails in The Shard. How exciting it was that they kept their relationship under wraps at work, worried about accusations of nepotism. How brilliantly he had handled her leaving the surgery, how incredibly hard he works to support her and how much she appreciates being able to spend time at home, which she really does now prefer. When the one-sided conversation ended after fifteen minutes, Amy thought it might be because Flick had run out of superlatives.

  ‘Well, he’s certainly lucky to have found you, Flick.’

  ‘No, Amy, I’m the lucky one.’

  Twenty-Two

  ‘Piglet!’ Jamie shouts, with his arms wide open as he marches into The Secret Garden that evening. ‘Are you cross with me?’

  He looks different. His hair is shorter around the sides and he’s grown his stubble out. And why does he look so brown? His tan is made even more pronounced by his clothes. All black everything. A jet-black shirt that’s too tight, rolled up ripped jeans with his ankles showing and black velvet smoking slippers. Who the hell just walked in? He looks like he’s trying to be Russell Brand.

  ‘Of course I fucking am, you lying prick! Me, pressuring you into marriage, obsessing over kids? Who were you in a relationship with? Not me. Get over yourself – I hope your business fails and you have to move back in with your parents. And by the way, I never told you this but Sarah thinks you’re going to end up looking like Tom Cruise. In Tropic Thunder.’

  That’s what she’d like to say.

  Instead, she says, ‘No, I’m not cross. I’m fine. How are you?’ while standing up to endure a hug and a kiss on both cheeks without projectile-vomiting onto his chest.

  The last thing she wants is to look upset. The aim here is to look like she doesn’t give a shit, and never did. She stiffens as he squeezes her into his hard stomach. Amy tends to wear her emotions on her face and was worried it would show when he walked in. Not that he’d ever notice. He’s as good at gauging her emotions as he is at giving her compliments. She’s relieved that she feels detached. Perhaps the show does work. Perhaps ripping the plaster off is the most effective recovery method – not that she’ll ever admit it.

  ‘Woah, single suits you, Ames!’ he says, looking her up and down.

  She does look good. It isn’t something she usually admits, but tonight she’s taking it. It’s all thanks to Gemma, who went to town on her make-up with some kind of magical contouring trick. She’s wearing the strapless black and gold maxi dress she was saving for their first night on holiday, with oversized gold earrings.

  ‘Go on, give us a twirl.’

  She ignores him and sits down.

  ‘So, what have you been up to these past two weeks?’ she asks.

  He takes a seat and reaches across the table, grabs the wine bottle and pours himself a glass.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m enjoying this,’ he says, ignoring her question and suddenly looking serious. ‘It’s just part of the show, I didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘Oh, I know, Jamie. I’m fine. It’s all a bit of fun, isn’t it? Have you been watching?’

  ‘Just the catch-ups at night. Headplace has kicked off a bit and I’ve had to do a few interviews for the show. I’m glad you think it’s fun too – I thought you’d hate me for it!’

  ‘Nooo, not at all – how could I hate you after everything we’ve been through together?’

  How could you do it to me, Jamie, after everything we went through together?

  ‘So, tell me all about these interviews. Sounds exciting. I hope you’ve been saying good things about me.’ She smiles, pouring herself a glass of wine. ‘It might help with my votes.’

  He fake-laughs as he takes another sip and leans back.

  ‘Oh my God, tell us everything!’ Gemma all but yells as Amy walks into the kitchen to fetch a bread selection for the table.

  ‘It’s not that bad. I think I’m managing to be as obnoxiously nonchalant as possible.’ She smiles as she picks up the bread basket and balsamic-infused olive oil. ‘But he did ask me to twirl for him. I blame you.’

  ‘Ew,’ says Gemma, scrunching up her nose. She picks up one of the calamari that Amy helped Hattie to cook earlier. If helping means watching from a distance with a large glass of wine. ‘Which one’s Jamie’s plate?’

  When Amy points it out, Gemma licks the calamari piece and puts it back. Then she does the same to the rest of them.

  Jamie peers into the bread basket as Amy places it on the table outside.

  ‘Anything gluten-free? I’ve gone gluten-free recently. Best thing I’ve ever done. I have so much energy now. Do you remember I used t
o be really heavy and sluggish all the time? It’s amazing what a diet can do for you. You should try it.’

  Amy grabs a white bread roll, takes a large bite and starts to butter the rest.

  ‘So, Jamie,’ she says with a loud swallow, ‘business is booming, is it? Think you’ve picked up any new clients from this? Perhaps I’m owed a cut.’

  ‘Amy.’ Jamie sighs. ‘Can we please stop being so nice and polite. Let’s be real with each other. It’s me. You can talk to me.’ He grabs her wrist, pulling her towards him.

  She wrenches it out of his grip, puts both hands back in her lap and glares at him.

  Hold it together. You were doing so well.

  ‘Chill out. Bit touchy, aren’t you? Anyway, what I was trying to say is …’ He lowers his head and looks at his feet. Is he about to cry? Amy isn’t sure what to do. She’s never seen him cry in her life.

  ‘Isn’t this whole experience incredible?’ He lifts his head up, smiling broadly and shout-whispering, ‘I mean, think about it, we’re being watched by over a million viewers. Right now, Amy!’ he cries. ‘I’m famous! You’re famous! Can you fucking believe it? Of course it’s going to open up doors for Headplace! I mean, I’ve been dropping it into the conversation every chance I get when I’m asked to comment on the show, and in these interviews. Surely someone’s going to pick that up, aren’t they, Piglet?’

  Amy can’t believe she thought he was going to cry. When will she learn that he will never be the man she had hoped he would become?

  ‘You don’t get to call me Piglet anymore,’ she says.

  ‘Amy! For fuck’s sake, if you aren’t cross with me, why are you being so stand-offish?’ He looks at her with that intense glare that would usually make her feel nervous, as if he’s about to blow a fuse. ‘Stop pretending to be someone else. This isn’t you. What have you done with Piglet? And I’m still waiting for a thank you, by the way. It’s the least I deserve. You’re all over the Mail Online because of me. Let’s face it, if you weren’t in here, you’d be out there watching The Shelf happen for someone else, glued to the TV in your old tracksuit bottoms, eating fake cheese. I’ve put you on the map, Piglet. Sorry, Amy.’ He downs the rest of his wine and reaches across the table for the bottle.

  As she watches him, she quietly daydreams about smashing him across the face with it like she’s ‘the Bride’ from Kill Bill.

  Amy can’t hold it in anymore. She needs to know what the fuck he was thinking when he saw the ad for this show and thought it would be a good idea. She has to know why he’s telling everyone lies about how she was in their relationship, and why he felt he couldn’t talk to her about it. She wants to know how long he’s been feeling like this, and when he decided to start making a fool out of her. Whether he’s told his friends about it at the pub, and if they all cracked up. The ultimate joke at Amy’s expense.

  ‘Why did you do it, Jamie?’ she asks him. ‘Why didn’t you just talk to me? Two years. Two years, and you didn’t feel close enough to me to have a normal conversation. Why go to these lengths, just to break up with someone?’

  He shifts in his seat, flicks his nose and brushes his hair back. ‘How could I tell you to your face, Amy? There would have been screaming, crying, shouting, tears. I couldn’t watch you be crushed. I’d have hated to see you like that.’

  ‘Um, have you not seen the first episode?’ she asks, frowning.

  ‘God no, I couldn’t bring myself to watch that. No, no, I’ve actively avoided that. It was really hard, too, because it was all over my Facebook feed.’

  Amy could burst into hysterics at the absurdity of his response. But she manages to keep a calm face and a cool voice.

  ‘OK, another question. Why are you going around telling everyone that I put pressure on you to marry me and have kids? We never had a single conversation about it. I remember talking about other people getting married and other people having kids. But it was never about us. The closest we ever came to talking about the future was when I suggested I move in, after you gave me the key to your flat. At the time I thought it was a sign that our relationship was moving forward. But maybe it was a sidestep for you. Were you just trying to put off the conversation? You knew that at some point we’d have to talk about where we were going – maybe you used the key to delay it, so we didn’t have to. Is that what it was? You tell me, Jamie – I can only guess. I’m not angry, I just want to understand what this is all about so I can move on.’

  Although Amy is angry. In fact, she’s really fucking furious. But that isn’t going to get her anywhere.

  Jamie hangs his head before he speaks. ‘I know we never talked about marriage and babies. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the pressure. I knew that’s what you wanted. That’s what you all want eventually, isn’t it? And just knowing you wanted that made me feel like I was being forced into it myself. And I said loads of times that having a kid would be rubbish. So really, Amy, you should have got the hint. It wasn’t even a hint – I couldn’t have been clearer.’

  ‘I thought you were joking.’

  ‘Oh, Amy. There’s a grain of truth in every joke. You know that.’

  She does know that. And she did worry about it at the time. But she ignored it and hoped he would grow up and eventually want adult things. Amy remembers the first and only time he met Jane’s twins. Her heart melted as he picked them both up at the same time and spun them around, their maniacal little laughs turning into screams of pure joy. He seemed like such a natural. Like the perfect fun dad. Not the man who turned to Amy as soon as they shut the front door behind them and said, ‘Hey, Amy, what’s more magical than having kids? Not having them.’

  ‘So what do you want, Jamie?’ she asks him across the table. ‘In the future?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t really think about it. I’m more of a live-in-the-moment guy. Maybe I will get married one day. Maybe I won’t. What makes me happy right now is being single, free and selfish. What’s wrong with that? I like to live my life knowing that I don’t have to think of anyone else. I can come and go as I please. I don’t have to check in with anyone, tell anyone what my evening plans are, text another person to keep them informed of my every movement. Now I can eat what I like, go out when I like, do yoga without someone staring at me.’

  ‘Yes, OK, I get the idea, Jamie.’ She’s had enough of hearing how great life is in his post-Amy world. Besides, what he’s just described is what he had before. He hardly ever thought of her. He did come and go as he pleased. He never checked in. She thought he did yoga in front of her to make her feel bad for not exercising.

  The conversation continues for another half hour. There are no arguments, no raised tempers, no tears and no answers – and no apologies either. When it’s time to say goodbye, there’s a friendly hug with a pat on the back.

  But not before Jamie finishes his whole plate of calamari.

  Twenty-Three

  ‘Welcome to The Shelf!’ Adam Andrews shouts into the camera from the stage. ‘It’s time for the second eviction of the show, and what a week it’s been! We’ve had humiliation …’

  A boomerang clip of Gemma accidentally walking into the glass door and bouncing off it plays over, several times.

  ‘Gawd,’ mutters Gemma. ‘Knew that would come up.’

  ‘We’ve had confrontation …’ Adam continues.

  Grainy black-and-white footage of Gemma pointing her finger in Dylan’s face appears on the screen. Dylan looks exactly like a garden gnome, with his arms folded. Identical scruffy beard and downturned mouth. Almost the same height. Fuzzy monobrow that seems fixed in a frown. Hattie must have completely dwarfed him. Amy wants to laugh when she pictures them walking down the street together, and even more when she turns to see Hattie death-staring him from the sofa like Brad Pitt in Friends.

  ‘And we’ve had the stone-cold brutal truth!’

  They show a clip of Amy and Jamie’s date, with a close-up of him hanging his head. Amy’s pleased his bald spot is showing. He
’ll hate that.

  ‘What makes me happy right now is being single, free and selfish.’

  ‘So, are the housemates beginning to crack? And who will be the second housemate to leave the show tonight? Stay tuned, Britain, we’ll be back after the break!’

  Amy gathers everyone’s prosecco flutes and walks to the kitchen for top-ups, glancing at The Tracker as she passes. She’s moved up to third place.

  Day 16

  1. Gemma

  2. Flick

  3. Amy

  4. Jackie

  5. Lauren

  6. Hattie

  The guests on tonight’s eviction are Steve and Mike Barton, the twin brothers from Double Diggers, a show where they compete by renovating a different garden each. What they’re doing here, and how they’re qualified to comment on The Shelf, is a mystery. But they do have star appeal – both have identical good looks, but non-identical bad taste – Steve’s T-shirt says #teamgemma and Mike’s T-shirt says #teamflick.