I’ll admit, I’m not the world’s mostnaturalextrovert. I like people, a lot, but I have the kind of charisma that can captivate you on screen, not corral a crowd of people. That is, unless I’ve got a job. So, I take up residence at the kitchen island pouring fresh prosecco or the non-alcoholic option into opaque bronze-coloured stemless ceramic cups. Smart, really: no continuity issues if you can’t see how much liquid is in the cup.
Anyway, a job means I’m in control. It means I’m remembered as helpful.
I try to keep track of everyone’s names, but it’s hard, as a new contestant and her handler appear every few minutes.
Bridget, who arrived right after me, takes it upon herself to be an unofficial greeter in her sing-song South Wales accent. I wonder how manyI can’t tell what she’s sayingtweets there’ll be about her. There’s a reason I dropped my home accent before I got on camera – too many preconceptions too.
It’s a smart play, though. Whoever controls the room,controls the game. Befriending everyone early is a smart strategy. After all, who is going to compete with their bestie over a man? And later on, if they pit any couples against each other, well, you might not go quite so hard against your bestie. Perhaps Bridget is someone I need to keep an eye on.
I try not to watch the door. I swear there’s a visible difference between being curious about who is walking in, andknowing.Even if we’re not officially filming till later, it’s possible the wall cameras are always on, just in case. Which is precisely why I can’t be watching the door.
But I can’t help but wonder where Cherry is. Her car was right behind me, so what’s taking her so long? Did she quit?
Another girl enters the warehouse, and Bridget and most of the other arrivals gather round her. They flow together through the warehouse, a natural flock.
Except for one. As I fill an ice bucket from the ice dispenser in the fridge door, my first customer walks over. She has deep brown skin, and shiny chocolate-brown hair, piled up into a bun on her head. It’s not quite messy bun aesthetic so much as an attempt at ballerina that got loose.
‘What can I pour you?’ I ask, setting the ice bucket down on the marble top.
‘Whatever fizzes.’ Her deep brown eyes flash with the possibility of mischief as she adds, ‘And is alcoholic.’
‘Good choice. I’ll join you. Even if it is –’ I mime checking a watch ‘– potentially still morning.’
‘Who knows! Not us anymore.’
There are only a few bottles, presumably so we can’t get hammered before filming, and split between ten of us, we’ll be getting anaemic portions.
‘I’m Dolly,’ I say as I pass over the cup.
‘Whit.’ In a lowered voice, she says, ‘And thank you for not assuming we all memorised everyone’s names already.’
Unconsciously, I glance over to where Bridget is opining about the bathrooms. Apparently, so does Whit. When we catch each other, we share a smile.
Whit throws her head back and cackles in one big ‘Ha!’ It’s a good laugh.
I pour myself a similarly measly spritz of bubbles. ‘One of us has to remember who we all are.’
Whit taps the pads of her fingers against her cup. ‘Yeah, that’s not going to be me. I am theworstfor names and faces.’ I note the Northern accent. Perhaps my own natural ally.
‘I’m sure you’re no worse than me.’
‘Well, whenever I see patients, I’m always pretending I’m in-depth reading through their chart before I say hello when really I’m checking their name.’
‘Good job they’re not filming right now or there’ll be riots in the NHS.’
‘God, I wouldn’t count on that. The filming, not the riots.’
So it’s not just me being paranoid then. After all, we’ve all seen the blurrier footage of contestants that ‘suddenly appears’ when someone has been a total dickhead.
‘Luckily, I think my patients know to expect someone who is personally a bit scatty but professionally quite good.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a surgeon.’ She says it so casually that I almost choke on my prosecco. ‘Well, training to be. I’ve got a way to go.’
‘I suppose if you’re not talking to them much, not knowing your patients’ names isn’t that important,’ I muse. I’m more used to speaking to consultants I see once or twice who run tests, shrug, and send me away. Maybe surgeons are different.
She taps her temple. ‘I’m using my big old brain to remember where all their important bits are.’
