“Okay.” I was an idiot. Did I understand anything he was saying? Not really. “Am I expected to follow a script?”
“Kirsten will talk you through it.”
“Okay, but…”
“Your assigned partner is already installed inside your apartment. Any questions?”
Questions? I had a million questions, but nothing came out of my mouth as I once again stared at someone else in the mirror. Someone who looked vaguely familiar, just more polished. Clean. Put together like a patchwork quilt that now suddenly looked nothing like me. My grey hair neatly coiffed into something that looked like the way my sons wore their hair, rolling out of bed in the morning. My clothes seemingly sprayed ontomy skin. The skin that felt coarse and ready to crack. This wasn’t me. Not at all.
I didn’t feel it. How was I supposed to feel in a situation like this? I felt out of control. Truly.
“Fabulous. Let me walk you up then.”
Was I ready for this? No. I never would be. And somewhere at the back of my mind perhaps I already knew. I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. Destroy everything I had ever known. Try to replace something that was irreplaceable. And on top of that, I was going to let it all play out under the public eye. Had I not learnt a thing from my forty-five years on this planet? Nothing at all?
“This is Kirsten. Good luck.”
Luck.
Damn it. I didn’t need luck; I needed my head examined.
I was pushed through a set of heavy doors into what looked like a plush common room. Sofas and chairs with colourful cushions neatly scattered in perfect rows framed with a backdrop of dark walls and artificial lights. Cameras were set up randomly with a tribe of humans scattered about who didn’t even look up to greet me.
I had no idea what to expect here. None. Absolutely nothing. And here was someone else wearing too much electronic equipment on their head.
“Peter. Kirsten Parkers, pleased to meet you. Now. What will happen here is that Gina, our delightful anchor and host, will come and interview you on this sofa. You will be meeting Gina daily from now on to capture all the answers our viewers will need to know. Polite reminder: all statements should be positive towards the production as a whole. Any negativity should not be aired publicly as per your contract. We ask you to be respectful and mindful of your language choices, but equally it’s very important that you answer truthfully and honestly. The viewers will bedesperate to get to know you, the real you, and as such, all your reactions need to be absolutely genuine. Show us what you feel. Anything we deem inappropriate or wrong for public consumption can easily be edited out.”
“Okay.” She hadn’t even given me the chance to introduce myself. Shake her hand. Nothing. Probably a good thing since my palms were wet and there was definitely perspiration running down from my armpits. Damn.
“After that, you will be prompted to get up and walk towards this door here. You will be entering apartment four. This will be your home for now, and your assigned partner is already waiting inside. So you will stand by the door, we will film some filler shots, get your face, your nerves on show, all this wonderful emotion and anticipation.”
Her words, not mine. I wanted to run away. Sink through the floor. I didn’t even care.
“Gina! Gina, honey, are you ready for Peter?”
Then what?I wanted to ask? But no time as such, because now I was being plonked down on the sofa next to a woman who was wearing far too much make-up. Caked on under a neatly coiffed mass of hair and a tight dress that left not very much to the imagination.
“Peter. I’m Gina. I know this is all new to you, and you’re probably a bit shell-shocked, which is absolutely normal. I am hoping you and I can get a chance to talk during this experience, because, off the record, I was a massive fan of Mary’s.”
“Oh,” came out of my mouth.
“I am so, so sorry for your loss. Mary was amazing.”
“Did you meet her?” What was I saying? Shell-shocked was probably right because I had no idea how to act. What to do with my hands. Where to place them, apart from rubbing them nervously up and down my thighs.
“She hosted Eurovision with me. 2018. Remember?”
I did, and I smiled. So this wasthatGina. I did remember, although it was a long time ago.
“We kept in contact for ages, and I was absolutely devastated to hear of her passing. She always talked about you and the boys. I feel like I almost know the three of you, just from her stories.”
“That’s nice.”
“So, it’s a little personal quest of mine here, to make you happy. In her memory of course, because I know she would have laughed her head off, seeing you sat here like a plonker wearing a purple jumper. Honestly, Peter, who made this? Do they need glasses?” She rolled her eyes and shrugged at the same time, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“There. More relaxed. Trust me, Peter, I’ve got your back here. I’m supposed to ask you all kinds of leading questions, but I think you and I are too long in the game for all of that. So tell me this instead. Who are you hoping to find behind your door? When you put your hand on that handle and let the door fall open. In an ideal world, who would you find there?”
“You, perhaps?” came out of my mouth, as I winced and tried to shake off my stupidity, the words coming out too fast as I tried to dig myself out of that hole. “You’re kind and empathetic, and I think you and I would have a nice afternoon talking about…”
