I can’t help but notice the gap her words circle. Not atthisstage. It’s not easy for me to read non-autistic people, but I usually notice the holes, even if I can’t see what’s missing.
Still, at least this means I don’t have to mask quite so hardin here. Dolly doesn’t seem repulsed by my exhaustion, which is a low bar some don’t clear.
‘Have you not seen the show before?’ she asks.
I pull aWallace and Gromit-type grimace. ‘No?’
‘Wow. That’s…’
‘Yeah.’
‘Bold.’
‘I don’t know if that’s the word for it.’
‘It’s certainlyoneof them,’ Dolly laughs. ‘Just so you know, this cohabiting isn’t exactly normal either.’
‘Oh’, is all I can think to say.
‘I would consider myself a little too much of an expert, but transferring to a new country always brings its own challenges. Like with Australia.’
‘What happened in Australia?’
‘I’m worried if I tell you I’ll scare you off the show.’
I gulp. ‘Okay, don’t tell me then.’
‘Well, Carys, as your literally resident expert, I’ll be your guide.’
My cheeks feel hot. Maybe it was silly not to watch very much at all, but I had this idea that it might colour my choices, my behaviour, to know what I was walking into. For once.
‘I need to get out of this dress,’ I say and I swear I see Dolly’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. Was that weird to say? I feel all flustered again. ‘I mean, Reb… my handler, she mentioned something about filming?’
‘Yeah, later on. They want a kind of girlie sleepover vibe, I think.’
I kneel down and open my suitcase so I don’t have to look at her when I’m red as a beetroot.
‘This one’s yours.’ Dolly taps her nails on the wardrobe door. ‘Here, let me help you hang things up.’
‘No, it’s okay. You chill out. You’ve been on pouring duty. A very, very important job.’
Dolly chuckles, and sits back down. ‘It was very difficult. Those girls love a tiny weeny portion of Prosecco. At one point I ran out and had to hurriedly open a new bottle. I feared for mylife.’
I laugh, though it’s on its way to a snort. Not very delicate of me, Mum would say. Not very ladylike, Dad would add. Note to self: no snorting on camera.
The wardrobe is optimistically small given how many outfits they expected us to bring – one per warehouse filming day, plus a separate outfit for filming all our interviews for continuity. It doesn’t help that most of my dresses have circle skirts, much more fabric per outfit than anything fitted. It’s a squeeze.
Once everything is as squashed in as well as it’ll go, I take my designated comfy clothes into the bathroom to change. I think all of us chose a ‘looks like exercisewear but is actually loungewear’ vibe. It’s new, but I wore the outfit at home to test that I could stomach wearing it without fidgeting uncomfortably.
I’m a little too self-conscious to wear a crop top, so I slip into my oversized knitted cardigan with stars on the elbows. It’s incredibly soft. Ages ago, when I was sad about leaving my sisters after a visit, Ang sprayed her sweet perfume on it, and the lovely scent seems to have bound to the fabric. The moment I slide it on, something in my brain switches off. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s a kind of emptiness because my brain has stopped manually processing. I can never quite pinpoint what it is, even when it’s taking up so much of my mental energy, but some clothes just give me that feeling. That deep breathing-out sensation.
Unfortunately, it seems to leave space for other worries. I get the horrible feeling that I’ve got her name wrong. I’m sureDollyis right. But, well, maybe I need to check? Or maybe that’s rude?
She’s sitting up cross-legged on the bed stretching, like she’s gearing up to do some exercise.
‘Just to check,’ I say, still a little nervous of getting things wrong. ‘ItisDolly, isn’t it?’
‘Yep,’ she says, while twisting her torso round and revealing the long slope of her back. I wonder what it’s like to be that tall; I’m forever having to ask people to reach things for me.
