Up on deck, the sun beats down, golden and warming, the sea a sheet of glass stretching forever in every direction. It’s too perfect, too still.
I rest my hands on the warm metal railing, stare out at the horizon. It’s hard to believe that somewhere, out there, storms are brewing. That this ocean can rise up, and the sky can fall down, dark and violent, without warning.
But then again, with Lockie around, a storm never feels that far away.
10
‘How would you like to keep your jobs?’ Simon asks me and Lockie.
We haven’t even unpacked yet and we’ve been called into his office – yes, he has an office already, with another comically big desk.
Simon looks like he’s had about ten double espressos and a major breakdown – usually it’s only five double espressos and a minor breakdown, so something must be wrong.
How would I like to keep my job? Honestly, the answer changes minute to minute at the moment. If TV wasn’t so impossible to get into, and I didn’t have an addiction to paying for rent, utilities and food, then I probably would have quit already.
‘So,’ he says, clapping his hands. That’s always a bad sign. ‘There’s bad news. Worse news. And… an opportunity.’
Oh, God, I don’t like the sound of this at all.
‘The bad news is that we’ve only got four contestants ready to start filming later, and we’re unlikely to get anyone else,’ Simon begins.
‘Four?’ I echo back to him. ‘Which four?’
‘Honey, Camilla, Ozzy, Tony. That’s it,’ he replies.
‘Starting with less than eight throws the whole thing off,’ I say. ‘We could manage with six, without too much rejigging, but four is impossible.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Lockie asks.
‘Flights delayed, storms, bullshit.’ He waves his hands around, like he’s trying to swat his problems away. ‘And the worse news? We need to start filming this evening. I can’t push it. The sponsors, the network, the money…’
‘You said there’s an opportunity?’ Lockie says. ‘A solution?’
‘Yes, both,’ Simon says. ‘The opportunity is for you two and the solution? Also you two.’
It takes me a second.
‘Wait, what?’ I practically squeak.
‘You’re going in,’ Simon says. Honestly, the game has a lot to answer for, because it’s led this man to believe that everyone has to do everything Simon says. ‘I need the two of you to pose as contestants – not just pose though, that would be unethical. I need you to actually be contestants.’
I laugh wildly, disbelieving – because I refuse to believe it.
‘No. Absolutely not,’ I insist. ‘I’m not prancing around in a bikini, sleeping on the island, pretending to flirt with Essex Tony while I try to shield my eyes from the sunlight bouncing off his exceptionally white teeth.’
‘Well, I think I’d make a brilliant contestant,’ Lockie says. ‘I could win, if I wanted to.’
‘Steady on,’ Simon says. ‘I don’t need you to win, I need you to fill a gap. As soon as we have our real contestants, we’ll see that the two of you are the first couple voted out. I need you to save the show, not take it over. You will, however, be real contestants. What do you say?’
‘I’ve already said,’ I point out.
‘Who else am I going to send in with Lockie?’ Simon asks me. ‘Tara is engaged, Joanne is old, Fay has a face for radio – you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a looker. I know it’s not ideal…’
Phenomenally offensive on so many levels.
‘Simon’s right,’ Lockie says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘It’s not ideal, but it works. Plus, think about it – we’ll see what it’s like from the inside. We’ll know exactly what the contestants feel, we can get a better idea of how to do a better job. It’s a good opportunity.’
‘It’s a nightmare,’ I blurt.
