I loved this. The little smile on his face. The comfort of a shared…mindset. And him.
Which was when a loud bang shattered the silence, followed by loud voices.
“I can’t bear the arguments,” he said quietly. I could see he was rattled, his breath hitching as he swallowed.
“I know.” And here I was. Stroking my hand up and down his lower arm. Like the twat I was. And the cameras were on, and…oh for heaven’s sake.
“At least they haven’t made us argue with each other yet,” he continued, tapping his fingers gently on my retreating hand. A little comfort. I felt it. I thought I needed it.
“They tried yesterday, remember? Trying to make out that you were really untidy and that I was old and backwards.”
“Yeah, and then they were pushing and pushing and…”
“Good thing you made it stop.”
“Well, my stomach was grumbling.”
He made me laugh, and I was grateful. Despite that? There was such a growing unease in me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like all this at all.
I didn’t like the things that made me anxious. And I definitely didn’t like it when Oliver went like this. Unsure and…not the usual Oliver. The happy and confident and funny…
“There is quite a lot of script to get through today,” he said, taking charge again. “Things they want us to ask each other. Oh, they want you to sit with Anne and talk about…gosh. They want you to talk about Mary again. Are you up for that?” And here he was again, back to normal. And…
Was I? Mary? It seemed that was at least something I could talk about.
“Is that all I am good for? Talking about my wife? Who’s coming up with all these rubbish scripts?” I spat out. “Yesterday we were supposed to talk about vulnerability in relationships, and then we were talking interior design, and don’t get me started on those energy drinks we were supposed to be promoting.” If they were trying to make me pick a fight? They were slowly wearing me down. Because the truth was, I was tired. Grumpy and tired. I’d just woken up, and I was already exhausted. And there were onlyso many times I could sit on a sofa and be asked stupid questions over and over again before I’d once again say something stupid and get myself into trouble. I didn’t want to talk about my wife. I thought I’d rather talk about probiotic yoghurt at this stage.
“I know,” Oliver said gently as if he could read my frustration. “I’m as bewildered as you are. It’s not all fun in here, it’s really not. We need to do our individual interviews at nine, and then…we are supposed to all be in Room C for the luncheon party. Where we are supposed to wear our cocktail attire and look our best. It’s day, what…ten? Come on,” he whined, squashing the paperwork in his fist.
“The interviews I can do. Luncheon party? What happened to breakfast? I need more than free yoghurt today.”
“Catering truck downstairs. Chop-chop. It closes at nine, so we need to at least get some food before we need to be in hair and make-up.”
“God.” I sighed. What was all this again? Torture? An early admission to hell? I wanted to ring the boys and scream at them, but yes. I had surrendered my phone to production for the duration of this spectacle. I couldn’t even check if they were still alive.
“It’s fine. I’ve got your back,” he said quietly.
“Oliver. You’re here to meet the love of your life. Not babysit granddad here, who is losing the plot.”
“You’re not losing the plot. You said it yourself, go sit in that interview, and speak your mind. Then we’ll go to that luncheon thing. There’s a rehearsal before. It says here that we must only drink water out of the designated opaque glasses for continuity, and we must not drink out of the pre-poured clear glasses on the table. The wine poured is not real.”
“What?”
“Poisoned probably. This is a murder show. Did they not tell you?” Oliver winked. I did too.
“It’s a standard thing. My wife was an actress.”
“We’ve still not had a chance to talk properly about that. I mean, there is no time just to…you know. Talk. Properly.”
“We’ll have to sneak off for another walk. For our health.”
“Absolutely. Exercise is important.”
“Indeed. But how are we supposed to get to know each other when we don’t spend any quality time together?”
“Well, we are now?”
The laughter from the two of us might once have sounded honest. Now we were just laughing out of sarcasm.
