by Sue Watson
“Come Tanya, look at spectacular view.” Ardash was as fresh as he’d been at the start, fit and keen to keep going. I looked up at the small but stunning Japanese-style temple, white and gleaming, strung with bright red and yellow flags, dancing in the sunshine. He could see I was exhausted and held his hand out to me. I reached for him and felt a fizzing in my chest; was it the altitude, thoughts of Nathan or the fact I’d had no breakfast?
Rex was holding on to Kara, who seemed to have taken on a mothering role towards him. Marcus had turned precious and I could see him sitting down on one of the steps demanding ‘a cable car, dear,’ as Paul and Jonny trudged along together. Another trekking guide arrived and Marcus told him he was ‘an angel,’ asking if he could hold on to him. I smiled to myself and carried on to the top of the temple with Ardash.
Cindi caught up and I linked her arm as we walked into the temple. It was cool and dark and covered in dead and dying flowers. “Ooh, it stinks in here,” she said, holding her nose and spoiling the moment of serenity.
“You really would be happier in a nightclub, wouldn’t you?” I teased.
“Oh Tan, this isn’t for me. I just saw someone carrying a dead goat up those steps. I mean, seriously?”
“Yes, people bringing sacrifices,” Ardash appeared at Cindi’s side, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.
“I hope you’ve not brought us as sacrifices, Ardash,” she tittered. He smiled. He obviously thought she was amusing, not to mention young and very pretty.
Cindi chatted easily with men, like you do when you’re in your twenties and know you look good. She talked to Ardash, giggling and flirting, making him laugh and I felt my own light fading next to hers.
The two of them clearly had chemistry, so I left them to wander up to the roof of the temple on my own.
Once outside, I leaned over the white brick balcony which ran round the temple roof. I gazed down onto the landscape’s green, arable past of patchwork fields and crops, slowly tracing the brickwork with my hand I moved round. The view changed again into its concrete future of Coca-Cola tourism dressed in vibrant billboards holding up the ramshackle buildings of Pokhara. The past causing ripples in the future and the future taking from the past... from greenery to billboards, it all felt so fragile and unreal.
A little later I joined the others for lunch in the nearby temple courtyard. We were now all sweaty and grimy and despite being hungry, no-one enjoyed their cold chapattis with greasy dhal and bottled water.
“I’m so bored of this shit,” Rex complained, spitting dhal everywhere, while the rest of us ate in silence, not responding, not wanting to provoke him in any way. “Hey, Tanya, Kara tells me you were the ‘Darling of Daytime’ before you ‘lost it live’?” I smiled and continued to eat. The guides and the cameramen were all setting up the next shots and working out the walk and some stuff with Cindi and Kara so it was just me, Marcus, Rex and Jonny. Paul was leaning over the edge having a cigarette, clearly the fresh air was far too clean for him.
“So, what happened to breakfast? Let’s hope the ‘Daytime Darling’ doesn’t get voted for a challenge again, or we’ll all go hungry. Again.” he snapped.
“You don’t know the meaning of hunger,” I said, remembering Ardash’s words.
“What? What did you say, DARLING of DAYTIME?” he sniggered.
I ignored him and the three of us ate in embarrassed silence.
“Would you like a sweetie, dear? Marcus was smiling at me and fumbling around in his shorts pocket until he found and produced a rather sticky pink sweet. Normally I would have refused this outright on various grounds, diet and hygiene being uppermost. But I was grateful for his kind gesture in the face of Rex’s aggression. I took the sweet, unwrapped it and put it in my mouth. It made my jaw ache with sugariness and I sucked and smiled while trying hard not to contemplate whereabouts on his person he had been hiding his secret confectionery stash.
The sun was high in the sky by the time we left the lunch area and on reaching the lake I saw Ardash, sitting by the boats.
“Where’s Cindi?” I asked, sitting down next to him, surprised to see him on his own.
“Ah, she and Kara they were tired, they go back,” he smiled. “I waited for the rest of you. A bus will take us back, it should be here soon.”
The cool mountain breeze was like a fresh, tingly wipe across my face, taking turns with the melting sun that gently warmed my flesh. The ground was firm beneath me and I stretched out on it, feeling every part of it on my legs, my back, my head. I stared at the clouds now melting into ice-cream pink and gold. I sighed. “This really is the most beautiful place on earth.”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Every day must be different, just as beautiful, but different. The light, the seasons...”
“Yes, that’s true. Winter is white and it sparkles in the mountains. England is beautiful too, no?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Not like this.”
“Big Ben, red buses, I see them on TV?”
I smiled. “Mmmm, trust me, it’s not worth leaving these mountains for red buses and Big Ben. You just can’t compare this to rainy old Britain.”
He smiled. “I could never leave. They are part of me, the mountains. I know them so well, like...like...”
“Like the back of your hand?” I said and he lifted his palm to his face, looking sideways at me with querying eyes and an uncertain smile.
I giggled. “It’s an English saying, it means you know something very well – as well as you know this.” I touched the back of my hand to show him.
I ignored the tingling feeling in my stomach. Ardash was nice, but talking to him made me even more aware I needed my own man back in my life. I longed to see Nathan, I ached for him and I was determined we would try and make a go of it once I was home.
GOSSIPBITCH: Which blonde Page 3 girl has the hots for a handsome hunk in the Himalayas? Early reports suggest he feels just as hot for her...
19
Bacterial Hand Wipes and Prolonged Agony
Later that day we gathered around the campfire for yet more rice and dhal. Everyone was more relaxed after the trek and the mood was lighter, now we knew each other better.
It was nice to see Jonny and Kara had bonded; clearly their meeting hadn’t been the bloodbath the producers had hoped for. They were chatting about a model who Kara knew from her time in I’m a Celebrity…
“She was gorgeous, Jonny and such a lovely person. Sadly she’s straight, but we’ve stayed great friends... Hey, perhaps I could organise a blind date for you? She loves funny men.” Jonny was smiling enthusiastically, delighted to be put forward for a blind date with a model and equally pleased to be called a ‘funny man’ again.
“Kara, quit humouring him.” Rex suddenly butted in. “You said this model likes guys who are funny, so why would she hook up with Jonny boy?” His face was humourless, almost angry.
Jonny deflated like a balloon and Kara looked embarrassed but said nothing, clearly keen to align herself with Rex, the Alpha Male of the pack.
“Why don’t you just leave him alone”, I said angrily before I could stop myself. He looked across at me.
“Tanya Travis...” he said slowly, leaning back onto the rocky ground and using his rucksack as a pillow. Everyone turned to look at him. “Tell me, Tanya Travis, Queen of Daytime. Why are you here?” His eyes were cold, his jaw clenched, he wanted a fight.
“For the same reason as the rest of us, Rex: money and profile.” I said tightly, with a smile.
“So how exactly do you expect to survive in the mountains, if you can’t even sit on the floor without brushing the dust off your fanny?”
“He means your arse, not your vagina, Tanya... In American fanny means...” Cindi offered.
“Thanks Cindi, I realise that.” I said. “You’re right Rex. I probably shouldn’t have come on the show but I stupidly listened to my agent, who implied it was like a bloody health farm.”
Cindi and Jonny
giggled. Rex didn’t.
“Go home then.”
“I don’t want to. I want to stay here.” I spoke slowly and calmly, surprised at what I’d said. I clearly still had a lot to learn about myself.
* * * * *
“So, everyone, are you prepared for the first eviction?” Flinty and Tiffany bounced around enthusiastically like bloody cheerleaders. We all stared at them, bleary eyed, hating them for being so perky at 1.45 in the morning.
We’d only been to sleep for a few hours and with the hard ground and after-effects of the trek destroying my back, those hours hadn’t involved much sleep on my part. They led us to the campfire and left us to chat, whilst the pre-recorded part of the show was screened to the nation.
“The public will never forgive me, for the way I treated Paul when we first arrived,” I sighed, leaning back against a rock and staring into the fire. “Despite the trek today, which went OK, the programme’s probably been completely re-edited to make me look bossy and controlling.”
“I doubt they’d have to do any editing to make you look bossy and controlling, dear,” Marcus sniggered. Then Cindi joined in.
“Yeah, they don’t need to edit ‘get here now and clean this sick off me you chart-topping bloody rock star’.” He and Cindi giggled to each other at that and I just rolled my eyes.
“Whatever I do the press will crucify me,” I said, “whether they edit or not.”
“Look. There’s nothing we can do – what will be, will be,” Marcus said.
“And the press do exaggerate stuff but in my experience there’s always some truth in it,” Cindi added.
“Yes but it’s cruel and unnecessary. I’m fed up of reading that my boyfriend’s a sex addict,” I said.
“That’s my point exactly,” she nodded slowly, like she was talking to a five-year old.
“I told you, he’s not a sex addict, Cindi. The press make up lies.”
“They don’t. When are you going to get it, Tan? He’s a sex addict and you’re a control freak. Nothing’s good enough for you and you spent your time just ordering everyone around on your show.” The others stopped what they were doing and looked over at Cindi, who was twisting an extension round her finger and looking at me sincerely.
“Thank you Cindi...your compliments are making me blush,” I said, using sarcasm to hide my surprise.
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, but I couldn’t leave it. I turned to her: “Really, Cindi? I thought I was quite nice to work with...a good boss. I cared...”
“Yeah, I know you cared Tan, but you were a bit of a stressyBessie, everything and everyone had to be just so. You worked too hard, everyone said so – you just completely lived it, and expected everyone else to do the same – but they had other stuff, other lives, they weren’t obsessed like you.”
“I was just doing my job,” I said, sad and a bit surprised that what I’d thought was assertiveness and perfectionism had been perceived as fussy and obsessed.
“Oh, to see ourselves as others see us, dear,” Marcus added unnecessarily.
The fire crackled and popped and for a while we all just gazed into it, looking for answers or killing time until the inevitable. It was OK for the rest of them, they knew they were safe – but I was going to the gallows. Not only was there my treatment of Paul, but also my failed challenge to consider. I must have looked so weak and pathetic and spoiled. As we counted down the minutes until Carol-Ann appeared, it seemed we were all reflecting and all hoping not to be the first one out.
I was confused at the contradictions in my head. I didn’t think I wanted to be here, but I didn’t want to be the first celebrity evicted. And what’s more, I had almost used up my limited ration of super strength bacterial hand wipes.
“I hope my mum’s remembered to Sky Plus this,” Cindi sighed.
“Not sure I’d want to watch it all over again. I’m so nervous,” I whispered back.
“When I’m scared Tan, I always think of this famous quote; ‘It’s okay to be afraid as long as you show up’.”
“Mmm that’s philosophical. Who said that?
“Sharon Stone. What an actress.”
“Yes, she’s great,” I agreed.
“Tan, she’s amazing...the woman was over forty when she crossed her legs and showed her fanny in Basic Instinct. In my book that’s courage. A fanny over forty on film? Respect.”
“Respect.” I agreed, hoping the conversation wasn’t audible on air.
Carol-Ann walked confidently across the rocky ground towards us, in scarlet patent Jimmy Choos, her skirt barely covering her bottom. I bet she can get up off the ground seamlessly, without having to get on all fours and lever herself upright, I thought enviously. As she approached, Carol-Ann prattled on to camera and I contemplated strategies for coping with another rejection, this time not just from one person (Nathan) or one company (ITV) but from the British Public.
“Is there medication I can take?” I whispered to Marcus.
He giggled. “I think both Rex and Paul are taking enough for all of us, dearie,” he patted my knee.
“Carol-Ann’s very good,” I murmured, trying to dissipate the ball of dread accumulating in my stomach.
Marcus wrinkled his nose: “Too young, too straight, too obvious. She’s from the homogenised, post-Eighties school of presenter,” was his verdict. “It’s all about youth and looks and not about talent.” I’m ashamed to admit his comment made me feel a little bit better.
“We’ve now reached that part of the night, the live eviction when one of our celebrity spa trekkers will be trekking home,” Carol-Ann rubbed her perfect hands together before turning to us with her ‘sad face’ on.
“Seven very special celebrities sit before me,” she started, “we’ve enjoyed their antics for the past few days... But who do you, the viewers want to send home tonight?”
Turning on cue, she walked confidently forward to stand facing us, hands on hips, smiling, safe in the knowledge that her career was going up and time was on her side.
“The voting results are here,” she teased, waving her Celebrity Spa Trek cards. Each one of us longed to snatch those bloody cards from her perfectly-manicured hands and see whose name was written there. The air was tingling, everyone was tense, desperate not to be the least liked, the most hated...the one so boring, so past it that no-one could even be bothered to vote for them.
Carol-Ann paused as she’d been instructed, prolonging the agony and accelerating our collective blood pressure.
“...The person voted out by the great British Public and the celebrity trekking home tonight is...going to be... Announced after this commercial break!”
The mountains seemed to groan around us as we flopped in disappointment and temporary relief around the campfire.
“Tell us, you little witch,” commanded Marcus, clutching Carol-Ann’s arm.
“Nah, you cheeky fucker!” she snapped, in an accent that was pure cockney. It was good natured, but I don’t know what surprised us the most – the accent or the language.
Marcus and I looked at each other: two judgemental old dears over a garden fence. “Oh, I never expected that, thank God the ads were on and we were off air,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, amazing what elocution lessons and designer clothes can do... Let’s hear some more of those ‘cor blimey’ tones, it will inspire my next performance in Oliver Twist.”
“Carol-Ann, pray tell who’s departing, I can feel ‘Madame Angina’ coming on. My death will be on your conscience forever dear,” he said to her dramatically. But Carol-Ann just smiled, she was busy practising her words, raring to go: a beautiful, perfectly groomed storm. All cockney inflections were eradicated along with skin imperfections as the make-up lady applied powder and the cameras started rolling. Carol-Ann was nothing until that camera light clicked on. I knew how that felt.
“And welcome back...” she did another two minute and 34 second intro, by which time I’d convinced myself (not for the fi
rst time) I would die, live on air. Even if I survived to live another day, there was every chance my eviction would be punctuated by the same explosion of vomit as my arrival. I tried to think of cool, calm waters and gathered myself together for my inevitable departure, from the show or this world, whichever came first.
“So, voted for by you the public... The first celebrity to leave Celebrity Spa Trek is...is...the lovely...the headline-making...”
This eviction was making the scary spa challenge look like a day in the park.
“...Kara! So sorry, Kara!” Sad presenter face.
I was stunned. I’d convinced myself it would be me – mind you, I’d also convinced myself I would die or vomit live on air and that hadn’t happened either. Yet. I was relieved not to be the first but my mind was still a dark, tortured place. OK, this meant people were voting for me to stay, but it didn’t mean they liked me – did it? What twisted reasons could they have for keeping me here? I glanced over at Cindi, who raised an eyebrow and a tentative, congratulatory smile. Kara hugged us all, waved goodbye then tripped off through the mountains to a cold glass of champagne and a decent bed.
“Ah Kara, how we shall miss her.” Marcus said for the cameras, but giggled in my ear: “No actress is safe...she will stalk again...”
* * * * *
Despite the late (or should I say early) hour, we were all too hyped to go to bed so we gathered by the fire for a post-eviction beer and marvelled at the fact it hadn’t been me. “I hate to say it but I don’t know how you stayed in,” sighed Cindi. “I just held my breath thinking, Tanya’s a goner.”
“Well, they just wanna see her suffer, don’t they?” Paul added, confirming my fears.
I nodded; “Yep. I’m on borrowed time. They hate me because I failed the trial and you guys haven’t eaten a decent meal because of me... I am genuinely sorry.”
“Man, that Kara, what a swell camp-mate,” Rex said, kicking out his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “She sure would go the extra mile for any one of us. I mean, there was nothing that she wouldn’t do, right? Shame she never got a challenge,” he said, looking directly at me. “It shouldn’t have been Kara gone tonight.”
