Suddenly, Sofia narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side like a penny had dropped. A broad smile spread across her face. ‘Rupert, you sneaky little devil, you did it, didn’t you? You got me on that programme.’
She felt a twinge in her back when she moved to the edge of her seat. She winced as she looked around. ‘Where have they hidden the cameras or are they just using the one in the dashboard?’
There were just three television reality shows that Sofia had ever considered participating in. However, Rupert’s attempts to organise meetings with producers had been repeatedly rebuffed. Sofia had been judged too unfit to dance and too old to stay in a Peruvian jungle for a month. ButCelebs Against The Oddswas the new water-cooler show that everyone was talking about and which every entertainer whose career had stalled was desperate to appear on.
In the opening episode of each series, ten famous faces were snatched without warning from their day-to-day routine. They were whisked away to an unknown destination to compete in a series of physical and mental tasks. Cameras recorded their every move for a week. A year earlier, Sofia had watched in envy as Tracy Fenton, her acting rival for more than four decades, had been one of the chosen few. She, too, had been taken while in her car, and her popularity resurgence led to her being cast in two high-profile network dramas. Now it appeared theCelebs Against The Oddsproducers wanted Sofia.
She balled her fists to contain her excitement – her comeback was imminent, she could feel it. It wasn’t going to be by playing aging grandmothers in soaps. It was by being herself, beamed into homes, vehicles, telephones and onto tablets every night of the week.
Sofia removed the mirror from her handbag again and checked her make-up from all angles, dabbing, smoothing and contouring where necessary. Then she took another painkiller and washed it down with a swig of brandy.
‘This is it, Oscar,’ she said proudly as she petted his head. ‘Mummy’s on her way back to the top. Just you wait and see.’
She held her smile firm and looked directly into the camera, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid to stare at her own image as it appeared on the screen before her.
Chapter 4
SAM & HEIDI COLE
‘Are you sure your parents have kept the date free?’ asked Sam. ‘Your mum’s hopeless when it comes to remembering she’s volunteered to babysit.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Heidi replied. ‘I’ve already put the date into the family calendar so she’ll get a text alert everyday in the run up to it. What about you? You’ll definitely be back in Luton by then?’
‘Uh-uh. Should be.’
‘So when are you going to tell me what you’ve organised?’
‘I’m not. Like I keep saying, it’s a surprise.’
‘You know I hate surprises.’
‘Most women love them.’
‘Most women aren’t police officers, and in my job, surprises are rarely a good thing.’
‘Then let this be the exception. For once, have some faith in your husband.’
Heidi wanted to laugh but she held herself back. Instead, she finished filing her fingernails and recalled last year’s effort – a fish supper at their local pub. Money had been tight so she hadn’t vocalised her disappointment. Many months later, she had stumbled across the real reason why they were struggling financially. But she had chosen to keep it to herself.
She checked the destination time on the car’s dashboard – it would take another twenty minutes before she reached it. She needed something to distract her from her anxiousness about what was to come next. So she decided to paint her fingernails. She opened her handbag and removed three shades of white polish.
‘Which one should I use?’ she asked, holding them up to the dashboard camera.
From the console in his own car, she watched as Sam looked carefully at each of them. ‘The white one,’ he replied and heaped another spoonful of warm porridge from a Tupperware pot into his mouth. Heidi hated it whenever she was a morning Passenger in his vehicle – it either reeked of milky oats or well-cooked bacon.
‘Which white one?’ she pressed and watched Sam hesitate, as if his instinct was warning him this was a test.
‘The one on the left.’
‘Well remembered. That’s the one I chose for our wedding day.’
‘I could never forget.’
Heidi knew her husband was lying because so was she. She had worn a baby-pink polish that day. Recently, she had found herself testing him more and more frequently over the most minute and innocuous of topics, just to see how much he was prepared to fabricate.
‘This colour always reminds me of sitting with Kim and Lisa in the nail bar,’ she continued, making it up as she went along. ‘We drove the owner mad trying to decide which shade to pick. Kim kept telling me to go with the ivory to match my dress but I wanted something with a little more sparkle.’
‘You made the right choice. You looked amazing.’
