Bridget Evans, 26, Swansea
My dream man? Oh, he’s got to be a bit buff, hasn’t he, babe. I’m a gym bunny! I need someone who is going to keep up with me, and who knows a good protein pancake recipe. What good is a man who can’t throw you around.[Bridget laughs dirtily.]No, I know we don’t get to see them at the start, but we do eventually, don’t we? We do, right?
I release a deep breath once we’re safely in our shared bedroom. I tried really hard to pretend we were meeting for the first time. I hope I pulled it off. Mum always said I have the face for losing at poker.
It is very strange to see her here. The golden Goddess in my bedroom.
At least I’m not sharing with a total stranger. And I know she’s the kind of woman who will run into traffic to help; that feels like a good character trait for a roommate. Not that I’ve ever shared a room with someone before.
The room isreallysmall, and Reb didn’t tell me I was sharing until we got here. No space to decompress. No escape from the mask.
Two steps into the warehouse, I had to beg Reb for a sit down and a cup of tea. I don’t think she really had the time,but as I narrated my day so far, her eyes got progressively wider with horror. We sat in an empty crew area with steaming cups of sweet tea, which helped. A bit.
I had asked if we were allowed to be there, realising we were on the men’s side of the warehouse, but Reb had just insisted I was doing her a favour, that she needed the break.
Luckily, I didn’t have a meltdown, but the hot sticky edges of getting close enough gum up my thoughts. I feel like a melted candle; even though the flame was snuffed out quickly, I’m still soft.
Maybe my sisters were right; perhaps if I’d told production I was autistic they might have told me about the room-sharing situation.
Or they’d have dropped me from the show.
Dolly has already set her things at the end of one bed, so places my bag at the end of the other. ‘This one okay for you?’
‘Yes,’ I say, hoping that my heart isn’t beating so loudly that she can hear.
‘Do you need a moment, Carys?’ the Goddess asks me, and now, with the door closed, the bedroom feels very, very small. Not because of her body, but it’s like the space shrinks from her presence.
She’s clad in a matching set of scarlet red leggings and crop top, and it’s like looking at the sun. It’s a hard colour to pull off, but she wears it, rather than the other way round. Her icy hair and warm skin seem more vibrant against it, whereas I’d look pink as an early strawberry.
I think I’m intimidated by her. I feel a little thrill when she says my name.
I still haven’t said anything in reply, and I only realise quite how long it must have been when Dolly perches on the end of her bed and, into the gap I left, says, ‘I could do with one.’
‘Yes,’ I manage to say.
This morning should have been an inkling, but I get the sense that Dolly is very kind, very empathetic. I feel… almost safe, protected by all that intimidating power.
My heart ceases its impression of a marching band, but I’m a sweaty mess. I sink onto my bed, and flop back to lying down, even though I’m wrinkling the back of my pretty sundress something horrid. The cartoon lobsters around the hem must be all distorted and squished, but I’ve run out of energy to care much about that.
To my relief, Dolly does the same. Flops back, not worrying about cartoon lobsters. I think.
The room is silent except for the sound of our breathing, and I try to match my breaths to hers.
Maybe this will be okay.
My mouth is dry and I regret not grabbing a glass of Prosecco on the way in here, though that would have catapulted my racing pulse. Fizzy always makes me dizzy, as the girls would say. Inhibitions fall away with a drink, but so does my mask, which is a whole other problem.
Like she knew, Dolly goes to our bathroom, and returns with a glass of water.
I drink it down hungrily. ‘Thank you,’ I gasp.
She refills it and sets it by my table. ‘What a day, huh.’
I wonder how she reads me, this moment. Can she tell what I am? I feel the old urges kick in – to sit up straighter, smile more, still myself. But I am going to have to ration my energy for self-surveillance for the cameras. Unless—
‘Are there cameras in here?’ I whisper.
Dolly rolls her shoulders. ‘No. Not at this stage.’
