“…I’m under a tremendous amount of pressure to find a husband before I turn thirty. Only all the men I know are complete wankers and I could never be attracted to any of them. They want to set me up with the future Earl of Wimberly, and do you know what his nickname is? Hal, as in halitosis! Yeah, imagine kissing that until death do us part. No, thank you.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my stomach churning. “Why couldn’t they have cut that out? Why did I have to say that?”
“Then I drank too much champagne at your sister’s stupid wedding. Who has a champagne fountain? I mean really! How irresponsible can you be?! After my third glass, I met you and I thought, ‘Yes!’”
I look up at Will. “No, not like that. I don’t want to marry you. God, no. You’re a total BEEP. I wanted your life for a while. The way you were bragging about it, you made it sound so free and easy and wonderful—all lies, by the way—but I thought to myself, ‘If I could just be him, even for a few short days, it would all be okay.’”
“Oh, wow, they’re showing the entire thing. Every last stupid word. The bastards.” I consider shutting it off, but I can’t bring myself to do it. For one thing, the remote is all the way over on the far side of the coffee table and my entire body is frozen with shock and guilt and humiliation. For another, I probably should know exactly what kind of trouble I’m going to be in tomorrow morning. Am I still yelling? Yes, yes, I am. “Shut up, you idiot,” I tell myself.
“…Yeah, no garlic! And I’m not allowed to wear heels taller than two inches or miniskirts. In fact, I can’t even wear anything that cuts off above the knee, as if my bare knees are so scandalous. I’ve had to dress like I’m some woman in late menopause since I was… wel … born, I guess. And honestly, that makes it really hard to attract a man.”
I step closer to him and put my hands on his upper arms. “You know when I got to wear those shorts earlier? That is probably the most free I’ve felt in my entire life. But then you said I had to change, and it was over, like that.” I snap my fingers in his face. “And now, here we are. I’m in my baggy, ugly communist-chic outfit, and I’m going to get us both killed. I am, Will. We are going to die out here. Possibly today, maybe tomorrow, but most certainly before the end of the week. I’m not going to see my niece and nephew grow up. I mean, they’re so cute and cuddly, and they adore their Auntie Arabella”.
“Oh, God. Could this possibly get any worse?” I ask, suddenly feeling sick. I give Dexter my bowl of crisps to finish. “It’s like I blocked all of this horribly embarrassing stuff out of my mind as soon as it was over, but now, it’s right out in the open for the world to see.”
I burst into uncontrollable sobs until tears are pouring down my cheeks. The camera angle tilts down and now Will’s GoPro is filming the top of my head and back. You can see his arms are wrapped around me and hear him shushing me.
“And I’ve had to use the loo for hours now and I’m afraid to ask how that even works because I hate you so much and I just know it’s going to be horrifyingly embarrassing and likely you’ll have to stand guard while I squat somewhere only to end up wiping my arse with some sort of plant that will cause a horrible rash!” I sob into his shirt. “An itchy, painful rash. And I’m not allowed to scratch anything, let alone my bottom. It’s going to be excruciating!”
“Oh, wow,” Will says. “When you fall apart, you really go for it.”
Yes. Yes, I do. And now I’m doing it for the entire world to see…
“I’m not allowed to fall apart!” I wail.
“Okay, Arabella,” he says. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time. Using the loo is pretty simple, really. I’ll find some moss for you, then dig a little hole near a log—one without bullet ants—then I’ll walk away to give you some privacy. You do what you need to do, then you cover the hole and we don’t ever have to talk about it again.”
I nod and sniffle. “That sounds dreadful.”
“It’s not all bad. Once we’ve dealt with that, I’ll set up the camp and feed you. I promise, you’ll feel a thousand times better once we do those things, okay?”
I sniff again and nod. “Okay.”
Wiping my cheeks, I stare at the ground. “Sorry. I don’t normally fall apart like that.”
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
I nod and dab daintily at my eyes.
“The first night is always the worst. I promise. And it really will get better from here.”
“Not if we die.”
“We’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”
“Shit,” I whisper, watching as Will places both hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t think it was possible, but episode one was actually far less awful than this.”
Dylan’s face fills the screen again. “What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man,” she says. “Look at how he calmed her down just there. He should be called the Princess Whisperer. Stay tuned to see the incredible meal he whips up and to hear Will’s own shocking revelation of his first time out in the woods.”
Will appears onscreen again. “I cried the first time I spent the night out in the wilderness.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” I mutter. “He was only seven years old at the time. Dylan is such a C-word.”
Twenty minutes later, I watch as we eat some fish and yams, and then Will checks my feet for infection and makes a salve for my sore ankles. I sigh wistfully, remembering the feeling of his strong hands on me as he took care of me. “Why can’t my family be watching this bit? They’d totally love him. I’m pretty sure that was the moment I fell for him,” I tell Dexter, who is snoring away now, having gone into a crisp coma.
Will looks into the camera. “You can see the consistency of the salve is a nice thick liquid so it’ll glide on smoothly. We’ll let it cool for a while before I apply it, but in the interest of allowing my co-host some privacy, I shall now bid you good night and turn off the cameras until morning so the batteries can charge up while we charge our own batteries.” The video feed shuts off, there’s a click, then audio recording picks up Will’s voice. “That was cheesy.”
“Just a bit. There. Much better.”
