‘I thought you said ten,’ I say, following her in.
‘That was before he told me that you spent the whole trip ignoring him.’
I have no words. We have got off to a bad start and I simply do not care because I am too tired.
‘Give me your phone,’ she barks, holding out her hand.
‘Can I just call my sister to let her know I’m okay? She was worried about me getting kidnapped.’
‘No. Hand it over or you’ll be in breach of contract. I don’t make the rules.’
For fudge’s sake. I bash out a quick text and hand it over. The level of secrecy surrounding this show is baffling. If one word is leaked on social media about you before the show is aired, then apparently you are booted off. She rushes over to a safe and quickly keys in a number and slings my phone inside.
She shouts over her shoulder, ‘I’m in the middle ofElder Scrollsand my dragon is about to give birth any second.’ She looks furious with me as though I’m keeping her from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Trust me to end up with a gamer.
‘Erm, how long will I be staying in this villa? When will I meet the other contestants? When do we go into the actualLove on the Islandvilla?’
‘No idea,’ she says with an unhelpful shrug. ‘Could be days, could be weeks. There’s food for you in the fridge. I made it myself, which is over and above what I’m being paid to do. I may be Mexican, but I am not your waiter. I am your Emotional Support and Well-Being Official.’
CHAP 3 reels off a list of dos and don’ts as she races me round the villa, pointing things out.
‘You do your own washing and cleaning. There’s a utility room off there. Don’t expect me to tidy up after you. There’s a cleaner once a week. Occasionally, I will have to go to the office or into town, so you will be left alone. I am not here for your entertainment. I do not have to listen to your opinions or views. This is the shared bathroom. Shared.’ She stops to draw breath and look me up and down. ‘I do not have to help you with your beauty rituals, hair, fake tan or waxing. And I definitely will not comment on any questions you have aboutLove on the Island, their plans, how long you will be here or whether I think any of the Islanders are hot. Understand? And by the way, you can cook tomorrow, seeing as I did all the cooking today. Right. That’s everything, I’m off.’
I shake my head wearily and pull open the enormous American-style fridge. All the shelves are empty bar one. There is a bowl of suspicious-looking yellow gloop with lumps that look like wet bread in it, next to a sorry-looking sandwich lying curled on a plate. I peel the top slice up to see a thick layer of congealed mayonnaise is hiding a thin slice of cheese which appears to be hiding one leaf of yellowing lettuce.
My whole being sinks. This can’t be right. I am going to complain so badly tomorrow. So, so badly. That doesn’t even make grammatical sense. That’s how tired I am. I slam the fridge door shut.
‘There’s no way I’m eating that!’ I yell after her. It looks disgusting.
‘That is my Mexican family speciality. Bread soup,’ she calls over her shoulder.
‘Bread is literally the only thing I can’t eat. Is there any salad I could have?’
‘No. It’s the soup or nothing.’
I am left gawping after her as she disappears into her room and slams the door shut. I assume the only other bedroom in the villa is for me. I drag my carry-on over to it and flop down on the bed. I don’t even have a nightie to change into for bed or for lounging around. I open the case and pull out the hospital gown that my sister packed in case of an emergency. She must have been thinking of that really common scenario where I get rushed into hospital only to find they are clean out of gowns. It will flap open at the back, but it will just have to do.
Once I’ve showered and put on my hospital gown, I climb into bed, thankful that it is at least comfortable and the air con is working to keep the room at a bearable temperature. It is too dark now to see outside so I’m happy to fall straight to sleep and forget all about this nightmare journey of self-discovery that I have unwisely embarked on. There has to be a simpler way to win one hundred thousand dollars, make my ex jealous and meet the new love of my life all in one go.
* * *
I wake early the following morning to brilliant sunshine streaming through my window. I had forgotten to put the shutters down. My heart instantly lifts. The view is spectacular. The window is actually a patio door. I slide it open to reveal an elegant, paved swimming pool area right outside. It is beautifully kept, and surrounded by a wide border of tropical plants and palm trees while a high white wall provides security all the way round the villa. I look at the plush sunloungers and table and chairs under a thick white parasol, perfect for al fresco dining. The pool is meticulously clean, and the dazzling water looks very inviting in the already oppressive heat of the early morning sun. Maybe I was too hasty to judge last night on arrival. Things are definitely picking up.
I rummage about in the carry-on to see if by some miracle Lois has packed a spare bikini in there and to my delight she has. Although it looks more like a pair of shoelaces, it will have to do. My sister has thought of everything, including the need to have an all-over tan. There’s a toiletry bag with all the essentials in, and a ton of insect repellent. There’s a clean pair of knickers and a hairbrush.
My stomach rumbles, letting me know I haven’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours. I make my way back into the kitchen and open the fridge looking for some water. I see the sandwich on the plate has been half eaten and put back. Likewise, the bowl of gloop is empty but has been left in the fridge. I grab the bottle of unopened water to take back to my room. I also spot a fruit bowl on the dining table and grab up what looks like a papaya, but I have no idea how to eat one. I rummage around and find an apple instead.
Just as I bite into it, I hear an unholy sound coming from the chaperone’s room. Then I see her door bang open, revealing lots of winking lights and gaming monitors before she races into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her. There proceeds a series of honking and parping sounds as I scuttle away.
I still have yet to learn her name never mind become familiar with her toilet habits, but if I had to take an educated guess, I’d say my chaperone has become violently ill with sickness and diarrhoea.
Twenty minutes later, I knock timidly on the bathroom door. ‘Are you okay? Can I help you in any way?’
‘Not unless you are a trained doctor,’ she manages between retches. ‘Leave me alone.’
Charming.
For the rest of the day, I swim, sleep, read and spend the entire time nibbling fruit, unable to contact the outside world or to be contacted by anyone. I keep expecting Cam to turn up and rescue me but, so far, there’s been nothing and no one. I listen to the chaperone slamming doors and hurling chunks and go to bed starving hungry again.
