by Sue Watson
“Can you see anything? I asked, my stomach fizzing.
“Keep still, Tanya,” he said, still caressing. Then just as I was drifting off he made a sudden movement and lunged at my foot. I felt a searing pain and looking down saw to my horror that his mouth was on my toe.
“Christ...!” I yelled, jerking my foot away. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Toe-sucking headlines had done little for Sarah Ferguson’s marriage or reputation and I certainly didn’t want it on my CV or in The Sun.
“Get off!” I yelled.
“Tanya, I am sorry.”
“That’s disgusting. You taking advantage... you make me sick...”
“The bite is poison.”
“Yes, poison to my relationship and my career, you disgusting... Ah...poison...disgusting poison? It’s poison? In my toe?”
“Yes Tanya, I’m sorry, spider venom. It must come out.”
“Oh... Oh I see, yes it must,” I said, feeling foolish at my outburst of which he seemed quite unaware. He picked up my leg again and holding my foot in those gentle hands, put his soft, warm lips around my big toe. I giggled nervously. I was enjoying his medical treatment far too much and tried not to groan with pleasure, as he once more bore down hard on the soft, fleshy pad.
After a few moments of unadulterated bliss, he pulled away from my foot with a mouth full of poison, spitting it behind him. Which I have to say was gross and the only thing that stopped another projectile vomiting incident was the distraction of his soft hands on the soul of my foot.
“What can I say?” I was embarrassed, “Thank you, Ardash,” he nodded, still trying to get rid of the poison from his mouth. I looked away just in case my reflux let me down, the poor man had been through enough already.
I was about to delve for my wipes and remembered Cindi had taken them. I’d been so distracted by Ardash’s toe-sucking I’d completely forgotten.
“Spiders here can be poisonous,” he said. “But I think you’re safe now. You must come to the first-aid tent and take the anti-venom now, just in case. Then if you feel any pain, or nausea, please let me know.”
I nodded, and he helped me to limp over to the first-aid tent.
After I had taken some antihistamine and the anti-venom, I went back and joined the others, who had gathered together in anticipation of the day’s trek. I could see Ardash talking earnestly with Flinty, who was frowning.
“Tanya, I hear you have been bitten” said Flinty, a little crossly.
“Ardash doesn’t think it’s wise for you to trek today. He thinks you should stay here.”
“Ha!” snorted Rex, looking disdainfully at me. “Sure, Tanya, you rest your ass while the rest of us work ours.”
I glared at him.
“Never mind, dear” said Marcus, smiling at me. “You could have a nice little sleep.”
I looked at Flinty hopefully. A ‘nice little sleep’ sounded just what I needed.
“Fine, Tanya stays here” she decided. “Rest your foot. Ardash says it will only need a few hours, which is good. Everyone else, let’s go! Don’t forget, it’s an eviction tonight, so best foot forward!”
The others moved off and congregated with Ardash and I went back to my sleeping bag and laid on top of it. I could hear their voices, a murmur in the background and before I knew it, I had drifted off.
I must have slept for a long time because before I knew it, the others were traipsing wearily back for tea.
“Ooh, Tan, that was a tough trek” said Cindi, flopping down next to me. “You were lucky to miss that one! How’s your foot?”
I squeezed my toe experimentally. “It’s OK thanks” I said with a smile.
“Well, that sure is good to hear” said Rex sarcastically. I ignored him.
“Hey old lady, I’m gonna make some dinner. Wanna help?” said Paul, coming over.
I clambered to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster, and went to help Paul make our specially delivered lunch – my ‘winnings from the day before. millionth dish of rice and lentils.
We were just finishing eating and I was thinking about an early night, when Carol-Ann appeared.
“What’s she doing here at this time?” I said. “I thought we wouldn’t see her until tonight’s eviction?”
As we watched, she hurried through the trees towards us, followed by the camera, and Flinty.
“Hello, celebrities!” She greeted us. We looked at each other uncertainly.
“It’s a twisty, turny thing, this spa experience,” she went on, turning to the camera. “And today is bittersweet. We will be saying goodbye to one of our lovely celebrities before the live show tonight and they won’t even get the chance to pack.”
There were murmurs and gasps from all of us. Why was there an eviction happening in the afternoon? Had something happened?
“I’ll get me coat,” chirruped Jonny, making a desperate grasp at prime-time comedy. He had nothing to worry about. Jonny was the underdog and everyone loved an underdog.
“So, my celebrities,” she smiled, cocking her head in fake sympathy, catching my eye.
Even though I’d been expecting it, I was still surprised, a shock-wave went through me at the thought of going back home and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Of course I wanted to see Nathan and I needed to get my life back, but it all felt like too much of a challenge – almost as bad as a bath of yak’s cheese.
“The person leaving us today is... Wait for it... Tanya Travis.”
Everyone was suddenly hugging me and saying how sorry they were (but secretly glad it wasn’t them) and Carol-Ann wasn’t letting me hang around for goodbyes. “No time to pack, Tanya, let’s go!” she said chirpily, leading me away from the camp clearing to a narrow wooden bridge that went over a mountain stream. “I’ll see you in a few minutes with a glass of champers, Tanya,” she called after me while discreetly pushing me in the back, to get me off-camera.
“Thank you Carol-Ann, there’s no need to push,” I yelped. She at least had the decency to look embarrassed, I thought, waving behind me as I crossed the rickety bridge to the waiting press.
I was in total shock. One minute I was sitting round the campfire with my newfound friends, the next I was on my way home. I walked gingerly, the bridge creaking under me as I tried not to look down, holding tight to both sides of the flaking wood that would take me across the mountain stream and ultimately, home. Then it hit me: I had no home. By now I was sure my house would have been repossessed and my career had done the equivalent of falling off this bridge and being swept downstream, away, never to be seen again. I sighed and pressed on. I eventually reached the other side, expecting the flash of cameras, the ‘over ‘ere, Tan,’ that we’d been told would happen after each eviction. But after a few seconds I realised there was no-one there; no press, no Carol-Ann joining me for the eviction interview with that glass of champagne and a list of probing questions. The silence was deafening and all I could think was: what the hell have I done now?
I stood on the other side of the bridge and gazed around me. In my shocked state I took comfort from the bluest sky, fluttering prayer flags and snow-topped mountains and despite my anxiety, I allowed myself a moment to take in the sheer beauty. I gulped lungfuls of air, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt at calm, while desperately searching my head to work out why I might be alone. What had I said or done on the programme that meant there had to be a press blackout? Hang on...had I simply come over the wrong bridge? But looking back there was only one. Then my heart lurched down hundreds of feet into the mountains. What if something had happened at home? Was it Nathan? My sister? Had they got me out of there away from the cameras and was a professional on their way to break terrible news? What the hell was going on?
Within about four minutes, I heard a rustling and Tiff appeared with her clipboard from behind a tree. She was still wearing her talkback which meant we were probably being filmed.
“What is it? What’s happened? Have I said something terrible? Does everyon
e in Britain hate me?” I blurted at her as she skipped towards me, all made up for the cameras.
“Tanya... Say nothing...come with me,” she whispered, with more drama than even Marcus could have mustered. I felt my knees give way and clutched at her, hoping to God she’d be able to keep me upright.
“It’s OK Tanya, this way,” she almost dragged me forwards and stumbling, I clung to her arm like my life depended on it. All I could think was: please no more shocks, no hurt, no rejection, no more blondes or betrayal waiting in the wings.
We soon arrived in a clearing where several of the crew were standing with cameras and sound pointing straight at me. I must have looked like a rabbit in the headlights.
Then a voice: “Tanya Travis, you have not been evicted. I repeat: you have not been evicted. This is a trial.”
I looked around, amazed. “But... I don’t understand. Why?”
“The producers like to mix things up a bit, Tanya. It keeps you celebs on your toes and gives the viewers a few surprises,” Tiff whispered.
Suddenly the disembodied voice again: “Celebrity Spa Trek pampers your body and plays with your mind, Tanya Travis. In this trial you will learn what the other side of life is like and if you pass, you will be richly rewarded. Good luck.”
“But am I coming back here? Why me? Am I staying in Nepal? I don’t understand...”
“Walls have ears, sweetheart,” said Tiff, still playing her low budget MI5 role.
“But you have to tell me what’s going on!” I called, my voice echoing through the mountains.
Again the melodramatic Wizard-of-Oz voice: “You will find out in due course. You are now going on your own special journey Tanya.”
Shivers went through me. My anxiety levels were now at twelve out of ten and rising.
Within minutes a taxi screeched to a halt in front of me and the door was flung open. I peered inside to see Ardash: “Get in, Tanya. I take you to the next destination.”
Still unsure, I climbed into the taxi and it sputtered and lurched off.
“Where are we going?” I asked, feeling like I’d been kidnapped.
“We are going to Kathmandu.”
“Why?”
“You are going to see how the other half live Tanya. This show is supposed to change your life. I think that perhaps this time it will.”
I sat back, trying not to think of the passengers and their animals that might have inhabited the seat before me.
Dusk was falling as we left and I tried not to look down as we bumped over the perilous mountain roads with their sheer drops on each side. I looked across at Ardash, who had his eyes closed. He had guided the others on a long trek and was clearly in need of a sleep himself. Despite the danger, the view was stunning. It was a long journey, six hours. I nodded off myself towards the end of it and I awoke as we entered Kathmandu, desperately hoping my lolling head hadn’t landed on Ardash and that I hadn’t snored or dribbled in my sleep.
It was around 11pm when we sped into the city, a rollercoaster ride through Kathmandu by night. The driver chatted animatedly on his phone, sped through red lights and took both hands off the wheel to exclaim at a traffic violation ahead. It was clear there were no road rules to break, amid the screeching and beeping and yelling. My nerves began to feel very frayed when we drove through a village and our car screeched to a halt, just inches from a cow’s hooves. This caused a rickshaw to halt too sharply, spilling several surprised passengers onto the road.
“The cow is sacred, here in Nepal,” Ardash explained when he saw my horror. “She is like Lakshmi, Goddess of wealth and prosperity. We allow the cow to wander freely, even invite her into our homes."
Not on my watch, I thought, imagining the horror and filth of a big old Friesian tramping across my luxury hand-tufted, pure wool taupe. But watching the startled passengers stagger about in the dark before they clambered back into the rickshaw, I marvelled at the way these people valued spiritual life over human ones.
“I suppose a grazed human knee is a small price to pay, to save the animal that will one day guide your soul to heaven,” I smiled.
* * * * *
The taxi eventually dropped us off and we met with the cameraman and Tiffany, who looked very perky.
“How did you get here before us?” I asked, a bit snippy.
She shrugged. “We flew. We needed to get set-up shots”.
I counted to ten and tried not to scream. We then filmed my short and perilous jaywalk through Kathmandu’s steaming streets, jigsawed with shop signs, taxis and mad macaque monkeys. It looked like I was alone but Ardash was just off-camera, guiding me. It was midnight by then, and despite my daytime nap, I was very tired.
“Where are we going?” I snapped at Tiffany. “I’m tired, why do all these challenges have to happen in the middle of the night?”
“We are nearly there, lovely,” she said with an irritating grin.
The lanes shimmered in the night’s dusty heat as Ardash pointed out an old palace, a strangely shaped temple and the mountains, always there in the distance, watching over everything. He gave me a secret glimpse of a city caught in its nightclothes, not yet ready for callers. We stopped at one of the open-fronted shops. “There is little food where we’re going, so let’s eat here,” he suggested. The cameraman finally put his camera down and Ardash ordered us all a thick, warming dish of rice and lentils.
After we had eaten, we set off again. “Nearly there, Tanya,” said Tiffany, mysteriously. “It’s just round this corner.”
She and Ardash melted into the background as the camera filmed me walking round a corner and stopping in front of a ramshackle old building, a stark contrast to the pagoda-shaped palaces and brightly-coloured buildings nearby. The next monsoon season would probably finish it off, I thought, looking up through the darkness at the half-shuttered broken windows and the water bouncing down from the roof. I felt a sudden heaviness within.
“Where are we?” I said quietly. No-one answered me.
“Knock on the door, Tanya” hissed Tiffany, off-camera. I gently tapped on the door and within seconds, an elderly woman opened it and held her hands in prayer as a greeting.
“Hello, I’m Tanya Travis. I’m with the TV show.” I said, unsure of what to say.
“Namaste.” She nodded and gestured for me to enter. “Welcome to the orphanage.”
Orphanage? Was this some kind of joke? My heart sank as I thought of all the grimy street children I had seen when I first arrived in Nepal. The last thing I wanted was to be confronted with a house full of them. Oh how I needed to wash my hands.
“This is a mistake” I started. “I am no good with children.”
“All part of the challenge, Tanya,” Tiffany smiled. I glared at her, and followed the woman inside.
Once inside, I could just make out the open brick walls and the darkness was filled with the stench of unwashed bodies and re-boiled rice. My heart sank further as in the dim light I spotted the filthy floor, the stained walls.
“I speak English, my name’s Sunita,” the woman smiled. “You stay for a few hours here and sleep, then you work for one day here. Let me show you to your room.”
She led me through to the back of the building, into a bare room and pointed at a very small, worn-out wooden bed.
No way would I be sleeping under those covers, I decided. I would be sleeping fully clothed, on top of the bed. I shuddered.
“I wonder, is there a bathroom?” I asked, wondering if this was all a big set-up and if behind the peeling wall my fellow campmates were drinking champagne and watching me through two-way mirrors.
“Of course, come with me,” She led me into what could only be described as a large cupboard with a tap. Nearby, several huge canisters of water stood like soldiers in a row. Gesturing towards the water, Sunita left. I was devastated and had never in my life needed a boiling hot shower like I needed it now.
“Shit,” I said to the cameraman. “Someone call my agent, I want to go home.”
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TWEET: @DonnaAgent Tanya Travis NOT returning 2 UK 2 marry Gok Wan. Tanya in Kathmandu 2 help poor orphans #Don’tBelievePress #MotherTheresaTanya
22
Lost Children and Luxury Face Cream
I didn’t really sleep; I was waiting for someone to wake me and worried about what I might be expected to do in the orphanage. The place was filthy, the room was disgusting and as dawn broke, beetles seemed to be emerging from the walls. It was almost a relief to see Sunita in the doorway at 6am. She was followed by a large camera which was quickly in my face.
After a very unsatisfying ‘scrub’ in the ‘bathroom,’ I went to the kitchens where my first task of the day was to help serve breakfast. Arriving in the 1960’s kitchen I was informed that there was no electricity – apparently, power cuts happened all the time in Kathmandu. They were also running low on cooking gas, so breakfast would have to be cold.
“There is usually rice soup for breakfast” said Sunita. “But today, we have little cooking gas, so we cannot prepare.”
“Can’t you get some more?” I asked. She shook her head.
“Here in Nepal, gas for cooking is very expensive. We used to cook in traditional oven, which is using wood. But this is bad for the health. Our fingers were black from soot and American volunteer programme said we have to use gas instead. So we change, but we can’t always afford.”
“Where are the volunteers now, then? Can’t they get you some more?” I asked. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Gone.” She said, simply.
Soon the kids were up and about and came into the main hall where some rickety tables and chairs wobbled under their minuscule weight. “Namaste, Miss,” they all said in unison, at Sunita’s request. Ardash appeared and helped the cameraman to set up his shot nearby, while Sunita explained to the children in Nepali (Ardash loosely translated for me) that this lady was a big star in England and the camera would be filming us all day.
