“Are you sure about that?” she said.
It took me too long to reply. “Of course. We’re totally committed to the whole fake-fiancé act.”
“Ah, so you were doing this for the good of the production.”
I embraced this life raft enthusiastically. “You know me. Anything for the show.”
“Petey Boy, I’m not a fucking idiot. He’s not a member of the cast or crew. You’re not breaking any rules. This isn’t an HR issue. I simply want to know if you’re banging him.”
“Uh…” I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Why?”
“Because the team has been running a book, and I’ve got twenty quid on at five to one to say you are. The odds have now significantly shortened.”
Jonty burst into the room—face wild, shirt buttons in all the wrong holes.
“You have to help me, this is an emergency.”
I jumped up. “What is it, do you need a medic?”
“A lobotomist, perhaps?” Indira added.
Jonty was flailing. “It can’t wait a minute longer. I have to marry her right now or I’m literally going to die.”
I sighed. “Jonty, this area is crew only. You know the rules?—”
“Sod the bloody rules, Peter, this is an emergency. Zoë is onto us. If you don’t let me marry Lola now, she’s going to squeal like a stuck pig, and Lola and I will be dismissed. I will not risk being sent home for want of a fictional piece of paper. What Lola and I have isreal, and it’s too precious to end like this. It’s unfair. It’s unconstitutional. I beg you, remove this sword of Damocles hanging over our heads. Marry us. Today. Please. Before my loins set fire to something.”
Indira was playing it cool, but I could see she was screaming internally.Twoweddings? It was everything she could have hoped for. Under the rules of the show, before two servants could marry, they had to stand before Queen Dorinda to make their case. If she believed their connection was genuine and gave her blessing, the couple could be fake married in the fake Regency style befitting their fake status. If she didn’t believethem, they would be sent home. Of course, Dorinda believed whatever Indira told her to believe.
Indira’s face was hard, expressionless, and turning a very unhealthy shade of burgundy. It had been turning that colour a lot lately.
“Dorinda’s already on standby for Armando and Ridhi,” I said, ever the loyal wingman. “Unit Three comes on at two o’clock. Technically we could film it this afternoon.”
“Oh, fuck yes. Let’s gazump the other two.” Indira pumped her fist. “Genius. Ridhi will lose her shit. Let’s do it.”
Jonty jumped up and down, shouting his thank yous and praising Indira for her common sense. He threw his arms around me, cheering like he’d won the National Lottery. Indira grabbed her walkie-talkie and screeched for the costume department, then fished around in her cigarette packet and, yet again, lit two at once.
Jonty and Lola Q were fake married by three o’clock that afternoon in a simple but enthusiastic ceremony in the Buckford chapel, then bounced around each other like coked-up bunny rabbits for the rest of the day. Ridhi and Armando were fake married twenty-four hours later. What the latter couple lacked in genuine enthusiasm, the production team made up for in sheer bloody spectacle. It made recent royal weddings look like quickie jobs thrown together from the Argos catalogue. For me, the next few days passed like a dream. I’d work all day, then each evening William and I would sit around in the folly, notepads on our knees, coming up with ideas for shows and ways to make money for the estate.
“Your mum,” I said on the third night. William looked up from his notes, bathed in golden light from the reading lamp. “What are her friends like?”
“Every bit as unhinged as you’d imagine. Why?”
“I was thinking about aReal Housewives–type concept, but with real lords and ladies all going for each other’s throats. Like,Dynastybut if Joan Collins was a duchess.”
William stared at me blankly. “Who’s Joan Collins?”
I had to steady myself in case I fell out of my armchair.
“I can see that was the wrong answer. Shall we pretend I didn’t say that?”
I shook my head. “I’m wondering if there’s like… a gay school we can enrol you in.”
William bucked his shoulders. “In any case, we don’t really mix with that kind of society. I think you’d struggle to find anyone who moves in those circles who’d want to, shall we say, let the sunshine in.”
Damn. He was right. My own family wouldn’t agree to it either. I had five days until filming wrapped up, and Indira would be expecting to hear my big pitch.
“By the way, I looked into environmental and heritage grants today,” William said. “I reckon there’s a few hundred thousand we could apply for.”
