The Shelf

by Helly Acton

  Dear Amy,

  We hope you love your new Cutie Pie collection! Inside this gift box, you’ll find a selection from the new summer season, never seen before by the public. Your task is to choose the perfect outfit to wear on a date to a traditional English garden tea party. And before you panic, our style experts have been watching you since the start of the show and are confident that size 12 will fit you perfectly.

  We can’t wait to see what you choose!

  Your fans at Cutie Pie xxx

  Amy runs into the bedroom, ecstatic. She’s been itching for something new to wear. She listens to the others around her ripping the cardboard with mixed reactions. She opens her box and spots what she wants to wear in two seconds flat.

  ‘Gem, that’s stunning!’ says Amy, when she returns to the living room and sees Gemma spinning around, looking in the mirror, examining every inch of her look. It’s a maroon dress with a high-necked lace bodice and a pleated skirt that reaches down to her calves, just showing her ankles. The look on her face says she hates it.

  ‘I look so boring and frumpy,’ she grumbles. ‘I don’t care what Ms Prissy Pants said – it’s not sexy if you don’t show skin!’

  ‘The last thing a husband wants is for his wife to look sexy at a tea party, Gemma. They want classy, understated and elegant.’ Flick sighs, ignoring Gemma’s glare as she turns to look at herself in the mirror. She’s wearing a high-necked red tea dress with a white butterfly print. ‘I’m not sure this is right. Red is a bit too … bold, I think. Bold isn’t lovely.’

  ‘Is this lovely?’ Jackie struts into the living room with mile-long legs stretching out from under a bright green playsuit with gold heels that make her five inches taller.

  ‘Oh my God, you look amazing, babes!’ Gemma cries.

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Flick stares at her. ‘What’s the point of these challenges if you lot don’t take them seriously? You can’t wear that to a tea party, that’s absurd.’

  ‘But what’s the point of taking these challenges seriously when they are so absurd?’ Jackie rolls onto the couch and lifts one leg in the air like Victoria Beckham.

  ‘I bet this is the option I’m supposed to pick,’ Flick says, holding up a long-sleeved white midi-length wrap dress with ruffles at the front. ‘It looks like a wedding dress!’ She smiles and daydreams in the mirror.

  Gemma starts rifling through more of her pieces, bringing out bits of lace and velvet. Exhaling sharply, she stomps off to the kitchen.

  ‘Is this appropriate for a tea party?’ Hattie asks, walking down the corridor stairs and pausing at the bottom, looking hopefully at the housemates for approval. ‘I’ve never been to one.’

  She’s wearing a perfectly fitted sky-blue shirt dress with a bright pink belt and matching low wedges.

  ‘Oh Hat, you look awesome!’ Amy shouts.

  Hattie’s cheeks turn as pink as the belt on her dress. ‘It has pockets!’ She shows them, delighted.

  ‘Hot damn, Hattie!’ Gemma shouts, coming back from the kitchen with a pair of scissors in her hand. ‘Or should we call you Hottie?’

  ‘Gemma, don’t!’ cries Flick.

  Too late. Gemma slices into the fabric at the tops of her thighs and turns a midi into a mini in less than a minute.

  ‘Ah, that’s more me!’ she says, beaming and twisting her tanned legs in the mirror.

  Back in the bedroom, Amy tries on her chosen piece. It’s a white maxi wrap dress with tiny coral flowers and long chiffon sleeves to hide her arms. It’s the perfect fit. Amy’s hoping she can keep this wardrobe when she leaves, because this would also be the perfect dress to wear on a night out in Phuket.

  Hattie suddenly appears by her side, looking out of sorts.

  ‘You OK, Hats?’

  ‘We’re all so distracted by these new clothes that we haven’t talked about what’s really happening. Who are we dressing up for, Amy?’

  The housemates are sitting at each of their tables, waiting for their guests to arrive.

  ‘They’ve done the whole exes thing. It can’t be them again,’ says Jackie. ‘I’m pinning my hopes on the cast of Magic Mike.’

  ‘Oooh, maybe some single celebs! Get the ratings up!’ cries Gemma, excited.

  ‘Sadly, I don’t think they have a ratings problem, my love. But you could be right.’ Jackie glances over at Flick. ‘Jesus Christ, would you look at her go? I’m surprised they haven’t had to change her batteries yet.’

  ‘Jacks,’ Amy whispers, and holds her finger to her mouth.

  Flick’s tea party is miles ahead of everyone else’s, which surprises no one. Earlier on, as she was laying out her cucumber sandwiches under a refrigerated damp cloth to keep them fresh, she told them that she hosts a tea party every month in the summer. Coming last in the catering stakes is Jackie, without a doubt. On her menu, which took her under five minutes to prepare, is white sliced bread with butter and sugar, a plate of hard-boiled eggs and a bowl of oven chips.

  ‘What?’ she asks Flick, who’s staring at her tea. ‘It represents my childhood, and I want my guests to know where I come from.’

  Amy’s menu is OK. She knows what to serve at a tea party, but she’s no Flick. She picked her menu based on what she fancied eating, which was mini cheese quiches, cheese scones and mini cheesecakes. She was tempted to pick a third savoury cheese option, but reluctantly accepted she needed a sweet.

  Hattie doesn’t seem to care about the sweets, and she’s a chef. On her menu are honey-glazed cocktail sausages, sausage rolls and pork pies. ‘They’re men. They like meat, don’t they?’ was her logic. There seem to be fewer cocktail sausages than there were earlier. When Amy sees Jackie distract her and Gemma steal a few, she understands why.

  KNOCK!

  ‘All right, girls?’ shouts a buff man in a tight v-neck T-shirt and blazer as he steps into the garden, followed by a small squad of fellow meatheads.

  ‘Jason!’ Gemma shouts. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? I don’t wanna see ya!’ She folds her arms and looks down at her lap, hiding a smile.

  ‘Oi, babes, that ain’t how you greet a guest, is it?’ He grins, chewing gum with his mouth open. ‘Hug?’

  ‘Oh, sod off, you silly prat,’ she mumbles. ‘Hold on, isn’t that …?’ Her words get stuck as she peers behind Jason.

  It is. It’s Ricky from Single Dads. He broke hearts on the show last year by attending lessons on how to do his daughter’s hair for school.

  ‘How you doin’, Gemma? I’m Ricky. I think I’m with you today.’

  ‘Aw, bless you, Ricky!’ She reaches her arms around his enormous torso and gives him a squeeze. Jason coughs and looks down.

  ‘Calm down, Jase, it’s just a hug!’

  ‘I didn’t do nothing!’ he protests. ‘Besides, I’m with the lovely Amy this afternoon.’ He grins at Amy with teeth the colour of fresh snow.

  Ricky isn’t the only familiar face here. Hattie’s hosting health and fitness influencer @bicepsnberries. Amy only recognises him because Jamie’s obsessed with his mushroom tea. Hattie won’t have a clue who he is. Or that he’s vegan. He greets her with a forced smile and a friendly tap on the shoulder. She reciprocates. That date is doomed.

  ‘All right, Jackie, I’m Deano. Nice to meet you,’ says a short but ripped redhead, taking two steps forward and holding out a hand that’s too small for his beefy arm.

  Jackie, who towers over him, takes it with caution.

  ‘Well, I dunno about you,’ he adds, ‘but I’m glad we’re gonna be sitting down. Not sure our necks could take the strain.’ She immediately relaxes into a smile.

  ‘You’re that bloke from Stand Up Britain, aren’t you?’

  ‘I certainly am. Runner-up last year. So, I’m funny but not that funny. Sorry.’ He shrugs.

  ‘Love, I need all the laughs I can get,’ she replies, nodding towards their table.

  The producers have to be joking with Flick’s date. It’s Garth from Serial Offenders. Amy’s surprised he’s even allow
ed on TV, after that police chase last year. All of his crimes were minor. Petty thefts here and there. But still.

  ‘Hello, I’m Flick,’ she says with a shaky voice. ‘I guess you’re with me.’

  He smiles to reveal his four front teeth, which are gold. Flick gasps.

  Garth’s famous skull tattoo makes him look more intimidating than he probably is. It takes up the entire back of his shaved head, like a second face. When they sit down at the table opposite, Amy feels like it’s watching her.

  ‘How do you do?’ Jason says, distracting her.

  ‘Fine, thank you. And how are you?’

  ‘Oh dear.’ He scribbles something on a card.

  ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘When someone says, “How do you do?”, the correct response is—’

  ‘“How do you do?”.’ She sighs. ‘I know that. But no one says that nowadays.’

  ‘I’ve never said that in my life,’ he whispers. ‘In fact, I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, so good luck, darlin’!’ He smiles and looks back at Gemma.

  ‘How come you’re the only ex here?’ she asks.

  ‘I told them at the start that I’d never go on a date with another lass unless Gemma was there. Those were my rules. Got it in the contract ’n’ all. Not just a pretty face, am I?’ He grins.

  Jason is still head over heels. And Amy guesses the feeling is mutual, as she watches them play a tennis match of glancing in each other’s direction and missing each other by a few seconds each time.

  They haven’t even begun properly talking when Jason marks something else on his notepad. When he sees she’s confused, he whispers again. ‘You didn’t put your napkin on your lap immediately. Sorry! And another thing,’ he says as he looks under the table. ‘Uncross your legs. You’re supposed to sit with your legs together and your feet on the floor! Bloody upper class. Bunch of stuffy old bores. But they are the rules, Amy, sorry.’

  Amy uncrosses her legs, puts her napkin on her lap and looks around to see if there’s anything else she’s forgotten. When she looks over to Flick for some pointers, she hears Flick schooling her guest on proper etiquette, as she tells him politely how he shouldn’t reach over the table for the egg and cress sandwiches but ask her politely to pass them.

  ‘But they’re hot! If I don’t blow on it, it’ll burn my mouth!’ Hattie says loudly to her guest, who’s making notes. ‘Well, I didn’t know you weren’t allowed to blow on hot food. What a stupid rule.’

  When Amy looks back at Jason, waiting for the next question, he’s noting something again.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘It’s your fork. The prongs are facing down, not up, while it’s on the plate.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ She tuts as she turns her fork over and then looks at Jason.

  ‘You still love Gemma, don’t you?’

  He puts the card down and starts playing with his fork. Then he looks up at her and raises his eyebrows. ‘Is it that obvious?’ he asks quietly. ‘I do. I really miss her. Thank God I can see her on telly every day, so I know she’s OK. I feel terrible for doing this to her, you know. I honestly thought it would be good for her. To have a break. Not from me, but from that bloody phone of hers. Someone told me about doing a digital detox the other day, and I kind of felt this would be the same thing. Plus, I really wanted her to have some proper thinking time about what she’s been like these last few months, with her following taking off. I love her so much, I think she’s amazing and I couldn’t be prouder of all her hard work. But I just think she needs balance. And I’m not the only one. I talked to her ma and pa about it, too. They were all for me putting her on the show. It’s like … what do you call those things? An intervention. I just hope she can forgive me.’

  As he says this, looking at his plate, Amy sees Gemma glance over in his direction again.

  ‘I think she probably can, Jason.’

  ‘Has she said anything? You know, off camera?’ he asks, with a look of desperation.

  ‘Yeah, she talks about you all the time,’ Amy fibs.

  His face lights up with a broad smile and he blushes.

  The moment is interrupted by a burst of laughter from Jackie’s table. Deano has one of those infectious laughs that spread like wildfire. Both of their faces are crumpled in giggles and tears are streaming from their eyes, and Jackie actually folds out of her chair and onto her knees, holding her stomach.

  ‘I’m sorry, this is just so stupid!’ she manages to get out in between breaths. ‘He just told me that I have to store my caviar in a champagne flute!’ She cracks up again.

  Their hysterics start to reach across the garden, and, in a few seconds, everyone else is crying with laughter, shoulders shaking all round. It’s impossible not to catch it in such a formal setting. When Amy turns her head towards Flick, she’s happy to see she’s caught the bug, too. Even the skull is having a jolly old time, bouncing up and down with its mouth hanging open.

  The housemates are sitting in a row on the sofa, watching stony-faced Ms Prim and Ms Proper staring at Adam with arms folded and mouths turned down.

  ‘Good evening, girls! I’m hoping everyone has recovered from this afternoon’s tea party hysteria? Did anyone learn anything? Does anyone feel more polite or refined? Ms Prim, Ms Proper, what’s your verdict?’

  ‘Adam, no one really took this challenge seriously at all, so it’s going to be extremely difficult for us to judge. But we made a commitment, and we’re here.’

  ‘And what a delight it is to have you with us,’ he says with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Shall we recap what happened today?’

  The screen cuts to a montage that includes slow-motion footage of the scone hitting Meredith in the face; the housemates parading around in their outfits; Gemma cutting her dress in half; Hattie sitting in silence opposite @bicepsandberries and Jackie falling on the floor, laughing. It ends on Jason and Amy’s conversation.

  ‘I love her so much, I think she’s amazing and I couldn’t be prouder of all her hard work.’

  ‘Ah, Gem, that’s lovely,’ says Hattie. ‘Reckon you two will make up?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.’ Gemma smiles, shrugs and rubs her lips with balm.

  ‘Jason, stop, you’re making us well up!’ Adam winks. ‘Now, moving swiftly on to our judging panel. Prim, Proper, what have you got to say about it all?’

  ‘Well, even though she let us down by laughing at The Jackie Show,’ Jemima replies, ‘the award for exquisite elegance, excellent hosting skills and knowledge of etiquette is Flick. Congratulations, Flick! She is the loveliest by far. For her efforts, she wins a three-course meal for two tomorrow evening, prepared by a Michelin-starred chef.’

  The audience cheer.

  ‘We haven’t finished yet,’ shouts Meredith. ‘There’s still the booby prize to be awarded. And that prize, for worst contestant, has to go to Jackie, who has shown nothing but contempt for this challenge. From her ghastly outfit to her revolting menu, to her outlandish behaviour that would see her get thrown out of any decent establishment. Really, I think there’s no hope for Jackie. I don’t know how she’s still on the show.’

  The audience start booing the more offensive Meredith becomes, and she looks nervous that she might become a target again, with her hands resting in mid-air.

  Unexpectedly, Flick stands up.

  ‘I have a question,’ she states. Not loudly enough, as Adam continues talking. ‘Hello, I have a question! Hello!’ she shouts, and waves her arms.

  Adam finally notices her and hushes his guests. ‘Let her speak, ladies and gentlemen! Our winner has something she’d like to say, I think. Flick, what’s your question?’

  ‘Can I take anyone to the three-course dinner by the Michelin-starred chef?’

  ‘Yes, of course! We’ll see if Simon is free.’

  ‘I don’t want to tame Simon, I want to take Jackie.’

  ‘Ah, isn’t that lovely, audience?’ Adam interrupts the moment. ‘I feel li
ke releasing a flock of doves. But sadly, folks, it’s not a flock of doves that I’ll be releasing tonight.’

  The audience ooh as Adam walks up to the camera and the housemates look at each other nervously.

  ‘No, ladies and gentlemen. Because tonight, I’m releasing a housemate.’

  Twenty-Nine

  Adam is standing at the back of the stage. Behind him is a giant screen with their five names on a bar chart: Flick, Hattie, Amy, Jackie, Gemma. The bars are level at the bottom of the chart.

  ‘That’s right, everybody, tonight it’s up to our studio audience to buzz in their votes from the buttons in front of their seats. So, who will it be? She might be the hostess with the mostest, but is Flick the housemate with the mostest? Or will it be Chatty Hattie with her pork meat patties? Gemma the Gym Queen? Or Jack Attack? Finally, who could forget our girl-next-door Amy? Some say she’s too boring, but maybe Miss Wright will be Miss All Right in this round. Wait, is it Miss or Ms? Ms sounds a bit miserable now, doesn’t it? But you know what they say, folks, if the cap fits … Studio audience, only you have the power to save your fave. It’s time to get those fingers on the five buttons in front of you. You have thirty seconds to decide which housemate you want to remain in the house. ARE. YOU. READY?’

  The housemates inch towards each other on the sofa and hold hands. This has all happened so quickly, they’ve barely had time to gather their thoughts, or stress about who will be the next to leave. The Tracker is all they have to go on, and Hattie is coming last. But Amy’s seen that turn at the last minute, so there’s nothing stopping it from turning now.

  ‘Voting starts … now!’

  A countdown clock starts as the bars begin to grow.

  Flick, Gemma and Amy’s bars start rocketing up the graph. Amy’s slows after five seconds. Followed by Gemma’s. Followed by Flick’s, which eventually reaches the top. Hattie and Jackie’s are moving, but crawling compared to the rest.

  ‘Oooh, audience, it looks like it’s going to be a very close call between our Jackie and Hattie!’ shouts Adam. ‘Come on, ladles and jellyspoons, who’s it gonna be? Just one vote could make all the difference to one of our girls!’