Carys bursts into laughter.
‘Yeah, I heard it,’ I say, laughing along with her. ‘Perhaps not my best choice of words.’
She turns over, lying on her back with David up on the pillow next to her head, and lowers a silky eye mask over her eyes. I almost don’t hear her whisper, ‘Thank you, Dolly,’ before she falls into soft rhythmic snores.
Her ability to fall asleep in about twenty seconds should be studied. I, however, am destined to be wide awake for a while longer.
My hand feels itchy without my phone. Healthy, I know. Phone might equal job, but phone also equals Mum. Talking about her here feels like a summoning of worries. I know Auntie Carol and Jas are with her, but looking after her has been my job for years. I wish I could call her, even if she’s still angry with me, because then I’d know she’s alright, if a bit pissed off.
I wonder what she’ll think when she sees me on TV. I’m pretty sure the first dates episode will air in a couple of days – I asked Louise about the airing schedule and she was purposefully vague about it. They don’t have a strict every night schedule likeLove Island, or dump it all in several goes likeLove Is Blind, so it’s hard to tell when the real world will creep in.
But it will. It’s inevitable.
I wonder what people will have to say about Warren and me. Will I find a better match tomorrow? Somehow, I doubt it.
When do I bring up with him that I’m a lesbian in it for the money?
I’m pretty sure Warren is my best bet. Now all I’ve got to do is convince the world that I’m in love with him.
And stop thinking about Carys and the delightful little noises she makes in her sleep.
Chapter SevenCarys
Patrick Stringer, 31, Harrogate
I’ve had some lovely dates the last two days, yes. I do have a top three, yes. Sorry, it’s really hard to answer a question without sounding like I’m answering a question. I’m a vet! All I do is answer questions. What was the last question? Who am I most excited to see again? Sorry, yes, I know I’m not supposed to repeat the questions either. The answer is Carys, she… Wow, she was really wonderful. It’s strange. I only heard her voice but… Yes, Carys. I’d like to see Carys again.
Do we need to take that from the top?
I’m so relieved when my tenth date, and second full day on camera, is finished that I almost keel over right there. Cobey is nice, but I took in barely anything because halfway through us talking about his surfing school, the room started to spin.
The light is off, and I know that if I don’t take a minute to breathe, I’ll throw up all over the date room.
The exhaustion of masking from talking to people and being so very conscious about every little movement I make is so heavy that I feel drunk.
The room is soft focus, and I’m not entirely sure if that’s the ambient lighting or my nervous system crumbling.
I breathe slowly, as the quiet seeps into my bones. There’s not been a second of silence all day until now; five dates with five men over God knows how many hours. And over lunch, Bridget really wanted to discuss her current ranking, which is absolutely fine, but I had to grind my teeth to stop the floating feeling that comes with my brain processing too slowly.
I knew this was going to be tough for me, but I didn’t think I’d be so close to a shutdown on day fucking two.
I try to store up the quiet. The fizzing in my body starts to let out, like when you very slowly open a bottle of Coke.
I know there’s the expectation that we’ll talk about our dates in the living room. I want to be a part of that, but I also could do with a monk-like existence of no speaking or talking for a few hours first.
There’s a knock, and for a moment I think it’s on the mirror partition, but then I hear Reb’s voice behind me. ‘Carys, babe, you alright?’ Her head appears around the door.
‘Yes, sorry,’ I say, forcing another smile onto my face. My cheeks hurt with all the smiling I’ve been doing today. ‘I just needed a moment to gather myself.’
The rest of Reb slides into the room, and I try to feel the jolt of despair at losing my silence. ‘Me too,’ she whispers, and then slips her phone out of her back pocket. ‘I’ll tell them we’re having a heart to heart, so we can have five mins’ silence.’ She slides down the door to the floor, shuts her eyes, and signs a lazy thumbs up in my general direction. Poor Reb, has she had a break?
I vaguely remember that all chats with our chaperones would be off camera, so I chance that we’re truly alone.
I drop the still-plastered smile, kick off my uncomfortable but pretty shoes, flop back onto the couch, and zone out. I’ve never been more thankful to share a space with someone whenI’m so overstimulated that I’m angry at inanimate objects. Was this couch always so pointy?
The buzzing in my body turns to a background hum by the time Reb’s phone vibrates, and I pick up my fuzzy notebook and discarded heels, walking barefoot down the corridor with Reb.
‘Pretty sure bare feet in here violates some kind of health and safety,’ Reb says, in between yawns she stifles with her phone screen. ‘Can we pretend I didn’t see it?’
