Then there’s Camilla. She’s beautiful but she rarely smiles. Her face is perfectly symmetrical, perfectly pouty, and she looks perfectly miserable to be outside Knightsbridge – even though we’re in paradise. She’s fromCity Knights, a fly-on-the-wall show showing the Knightsbridge elite having the time of their lives. I honestly can’t imagine her lasting five minutes here – then again, I feel the same way about myself.
Tony is from a similar kind of show, except he’s from Essex, and he’s a fun-loving geezer. He keeps running a hand through his hair, making sure it’s perfectly blown back still. He’s got a perfect tan already, and the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen, and I know manicured eyebrows when I see them.
And then there’s Ozzy, a genuine beefcake. He’s tall and broad, toned to perfection, mixing golden retriever energy with pure rugged manliness. He wears his longish blonde hair in a man bun, which really works for him, and only adds to his sporty, outdoorsy look. He’s from some survival show, I never watched it, but they had to go to the toilet in the wild and eat plants. Whatever he did eat, it looks good on him.
And then, of course, there’s Lockie, and seeing him here, in his trunks, his ripped body on display – you know what? He looks just like one of them, like he was made for this show. The only person who doesn’t look like they belong here is me.
I know them all – too well – and I’m starting to think pretending I don’t is going to be harder than I thought.
‘So, Cleo, our final contestant,’ Arabella purrs. ‘Welcome to Singledom. You and Lockie are our two civilian contestants, joining our reality TV legends. Are you excited?’
Okay, as cover stories go, it’s not the best, but it will have to do. My throat is dry. I can hear the cameras zooming in, I feel like I’m surrounded.
‘Yes.’
Wow, one word, I’m just a big bag of charisma, aren’t I?
Arabella tilts her head, her eyes sparkling on cue.
‘Do you think “the one” might be sitting here, waiting for you?’ she asks me.
She will have asked everyone questions, when they came out, but being the last one makes me feel like I’m being put on the spot.
Me? Find the one? Please. None of these guys are ‘the one’ for me. I can’t say that on camera though.
‘Who knows?’ I say, smiling, shrugging, trying to channel my inner islander. ‘I really hope so.’
I really don’t.
‘I hope you do too,’ Arabella says. ‘So, islanders, your adventure begins right here. Head to your campsite, on the beach, start building shelters, making fires – whatever you need to do to survive the night. If you feel inclined to couple up, you can, but for now – you’re a team. Give yourselves the best chance of surviving together – tomorrow, you divide and conquer.’
Okay, now the show really is on the road.
We all walk together, none of us really knowing what to say just yet, although Honey is squealing with each step. The path is rough sand mixed with patches of dirt, winding through palm groves towards where we camp. My eyes keep darting, clocking every camera watching us as we go, hearing that noise they make as they pan with us. There’s nowhere to breathe. Nowhere to get a break from the twenty-four-seven monitoring. Well, except the outhouse, a shed for one with a bucket that has to be routinely emptied. Obviously I knew this was the toilet situation, I’ve worked on this show for years, and yet I feel like the reality of it has just caught up with me. This is where I’ll be ‘going’ for the foreseeable.
The camp itself is just a clearing where the woods meet the beach. We have some supplies stacked neatly at the edges. Wooden poles, ropes, palm fronds, a flint kit. The illusion of survival, prepped and laid out, ready for us to play, and yet it’s all still so real. Like, I don’t know what to do with any of that, and I’ve seen the show, I’ve seen other people try to survive out here, and yet I’ve never really taken notes – why would I?
Ozzy claps his hands, raring to go.
‘Right! Well, I’ve done this before, so I’m happy to take the lead,’ he begins. ‘So let’s crack on. Tony, Camilla, you start on the shelter poles. Honey, you and Cleo get the fronds. I’ll work on the fire – Lockie, you can help.’
‘What’s a frond?’ Honey giggles.
To be fair, I only know because I’ve seen the show before.
Ozzy is delighted to be in charge, and I don’t mind, because at least someone is taking care of things. If he knows how to make a shelter, that’s one less thing for us to worry about.
‘I’ve just had my nails done,’ Tony says. We all stare at him. ‘What? I like to keep tidy nails, there’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘You knew where you were coming, bro,’ Ozzy tells him.
Camilla narrows her eyes at the poles.
‘I’m not touching them if he isn’t,’ she insists.
‘I can do that,’ Lockie tells them. ‘I’m sure Ozzy doesn’t need me to start a fire.’
‘Not at all, bro, I just wanted to make sure you felt included,’ Ozzy tells him with a pat on the back.
