‘I don’t really get that option on the farm. The pigs would revolt,’ I sigh.
Dolly taps her fingers on the counter. ‘Are they tight? I feel like pigs don’t tip well. I’ve readAnimal Farm.That’s the plot, right?’
I laugh. ‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘Also I imagine you can’t go about pushing them off cliffs without the RSPCA getting a little narked.’
‘Not many cliffs going in the East End of London.’ I shake my head with faux disappointment.
‘Also now I’m so confused about how your farm works. You’re invoicing the individual animals for their care?’
I snort with laughter. Her jokes flush all the worries away. It’s like she can turn down the volume on the world for me.
‘How do you set your fees? A sliding scale based on how big the animal is? God, imagine if you had an elephant pop in, you’d berich.’
‘Stop,’ I gasp, trying to catch my breath. ‘I’m dying.’
‘So are all these large mammals you’re fleecing.’
I swipe at her with my hand, and she laughs in triumph. ‘Alright, I’ll stop. For now.’
I wish I could just stay here and be silly with Dolly. We’ve barely known each other a day, and she seems to understand when I’m being swallowed by my own nervous system better than some of my friends and family do. It’s nice.
My cheeks ache from laughing. ‘Thank you. And, I feel a lot better now, though I suspect my makeup might have run everywhere.’
‘Nah, you’re good. Beautiful as always,’ she says, and I feel a hot flush on my cheeks.
Other women don’t often call me beautiful. Cute, maybe. Adorable.
Beautiful feels special.
Before I can thank her, Louise summons us to the door. We naturally form a single-file queue in front of her. The invisible cloud of perfume and hairspray surrounding us makes my head swim.
One by one, microphone wires and sound packs are threaded down our backs, surprisingly cold against my hot skin.
‘It’s like a Britney mic,’ I say excitedly, as a nice man hooks it behind my ear.
‘Yeah,’ he replies with the weariness of a man who hears that every time.
Once we’re mic’d up, Louise leads us to a long corridor lined with doors. I still haven’t learned everyone’s names, but one smiley woman leads me to a door. At the end of the corridor, Reb rushes past giving me a flappy good luck wave. There’s so much going on that everyone is on high alert today. Except Louise; she seems unflappable.
I wait in front of a door as all ten of us line up. Eventually, after what seems like a lifetime, Louise announces, ‘Okay, ladies, good luck!’
Some women cheer, but my mouth is too dry.
This is it. Time for my first date with a stranger. And four more after that.
I stand a little straighter and hope my face won’t ache from all the smiling I’m going to do.
I take the handle of the door and walk through.
For the room my life is supposed to begin in, it is quite unremarkable. It’s just a softly lit, pink room, decorated very much like the warehouse with a big couch to sink into, layered with throw pillows and blankets. It’s about the size of a stable. Hopefully the snacks in the mini-fridge are better than hay and a salt lick.
The only strange thing is the huge gold-edged mirror that must cover the partition between rooms. I wish it was a blurry screen or just a blank bit of wall. I don’t want to look at myself the whole time… though at least it means I can check I’m making the right expressions at the right time.
I wonder if I’ll always be in this specific room, or if we move around?
Either way, I’m finally alone, so the buzzing in my head disappears. I feel a little bruised by everything this morning, but maybe with silent time now, I’ll be alright.
