That would be very nice, is what I think. The sun is setting, the pool lights are beginning to twinkle, there are lights strung up around the garden and in the trees, and the table and chairs under the parasol will seem like the perfect romantic setting for dinner with the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. All we need is a string quartet and some wine for our non-date.
‘I’ll open a bottle of wine too, if you’re up for it?’ he says, as though reading my mind.
What, no quartet?
I nod enthusiastically before remembering I have only my hospital gown to wear; an outfit that will ensure nothing romantic happens. I will have to put any romantic aspirations firmly to one side until my cases turn up.
When I hear Cam getting out of the pool, I stare hard at my book so as not to look at him. It’s only when he disappears into the villa that I realise I was holding my breath. I am making this whole scenario much tenser than it needs to be. It’s not his fault I find him so attractive. And Lord knows he is not giving off any vibes that suggest he is feeling the same towards me. If anything, I have done my utmost to put him off.
I quietly slide into my room to get ready. After showering and drying my hair, I pile it up onto my head. Without the aid of straighteners, it would cascade wildly down my neck in one big frizzy lump, far from the sleek, long choppy bob I arrived with. I have no make-up with me, so shiny cheeks will have to do. And after a few tries, the gown has become a casual wrap-over dress that goes nicely with the free slippers that were lying on my bed next to a stack of fresh, fluffy towels when I arrived.
* * *
Cam calls through that dinner is ready. I step out onto the patio to find all the fairy lights are ablaze. It looks amazing.
‘Dinner is served,madame.’ Cam is wearing cargo-style shorts and a T-shirt. He has flip-flops on and looks every bit like a dot-com billionaire crossed with a model for surfboards. He waves his hand over the table which is set out like a five-star restaurant with gleaming cutlery, plates of sumptuous-looking food and candles that twinkle against half-full wine glasses. He pulls a chair out for me. A quick flick down reveals his right hand is ring-free too.
‘Thank you so much.’ I’ve had to look away in case my feelings are written all over my face. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions and, at the present moment, they are fluttering out of control. He is such a gentleman. He is such a single gentleman.
‘You’re welcome,’ Cam says, sitting down opposite me. ‘By the way, the cleaner came and dropped off some towels and fresh bedding in case you need any. Mentioned something about a terrible stain on your clothes. She’s giving it another go.’
How embarrassing. ‘Great, and I could really do with my suitcases back, that’s for sure,’ I say, pointing to my gown. ‘Otherwise, I’ll be making togas out of the bed sheets.’
Cam chuckles. ‘Sorry, I haven’t heard anything back yet. I’ll get straight on it. You have at least a few days before anything happens. You may as well soak up the rays and relax before we start shooting.’
‘Sounds great. Is that so the contestants can get a tan before they go on TV?’
‘Yeah.’
I gulp. The contestants never have tan lines as far as I remember. Lois and I once discussed the angles one would have to contort the body in order to get the sort of coverage required. We decided they must all do yoga in the nude for eight hours a day.
‘Will I be expected to have an all-over tan?’ I ask nervously.
Cam looks down at his plate. I see his cheeks colouring, even in this fading sunlight. ‘Erm, that’s, erm, well, I mean, that’s entirely up to you. Entirely. It’s not mandatory by any means. But I suppose I can work in the bedroom during the day if you need some… privacy.’
He pokes around at his salad.
I have basically given him a mental picture of me lying stretched out naked on the sunloungers. Legs akimbo. Tits out, fanny out. Just as he is about to eat.
What is wrong with me?
7
‘So, Libby, what motivated you to come on the show? Apart from wanting to find love and win a hundred thousand dollars, of course.’
I am still picturing myself lying naked on the lounger while he brings me grapes and other erotic foods. I snap out of it. ‘Good question. There’s a lot I could do with a hundred thousand dollars.’
For a start, it would buy an awful lot of grapes.
Pull yourself together.
Cam tilts his head, waiting for me to answer. He’ll be expecting me to say something obvious like a vanity project, designing my own range of edible thongs or an Instagrammable trip to see the Dalai Lama. If I tell him the boring truth, that it would go on two deposits for mortgage down payments – one, so that my newly engaged sister can buy her first home, and two, so that I can start to rebuild my life after being unceremoniously dumped by Arrogant Josh and let go from my job – he’ll think I’m a sad loser. I’m so desperate to impress him that I default immediately to some meaningful, low-level lying.
‘I was thinking I could take a year off teaching to help build an orphanage in Botswana.’ I make sure to keep my eyes level with his, so as not to arouse suspicion. ‘Or to help build a school in India for… you know… street urchins.’
Any sane person would stop there.
‘Have you experience in construction?’ He seems very interested.
