‘I can’t go out in this. I will literally kill myself getting from the car to the catwalk,’ I say, pointing to the rivers of mud between me and the flimsy planks of wood that have a big silver heart at the end for me to walk through. ‘I won’t do it. I won’t.’
My runner isn’t listening. My runner is talking into her headset. She is making the following noises on repeat: ‘uh-huh’, ‘yup’, ‘got it’, ‘uh-huh’, ‘yup’ and so on. Suddenly, the rain stops, and she leans over me and opens the car door.
‘Go now!’ she bellows. ‘GO! Now, now, now! Before the rain starts again!’
After she shoves me off the seat, I am standing outside the vehicle wondering how to hop over the pools of muddy water that pave the way to the catwalk. The heat is sweltering, sending rivers of sweat down my cleavage. I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm. I blow out my cheeks. This is like an obstacle course. A movement startles me. I glance over to see some branches shaking in a nearby bush. I’m reminded that my every movement is being closely monitored and recorded.
I slap on a bright smile and take the first of what turn out to be many slips and slides. At one point I am almost doing the splits. I can hear loud gasps coming from the bush as I pick my way to the catwalk. My six-inch razor-sharp heels gather clumps of grassy mud with each step. When I finally reach the catwalk there’s an audible groan of relief. I straighten up. This is so bloody weird.
I glance down once again to my outfit. My outlandish doll-sized stripper monokini. I have mud splats up my legs. My toes are filthy. And I have half the fake lawn attached to my heels.
‘Wait just a second,’ I say to the invisible people hiding in the bush. I hear a tutting sound and choose to ignore it. ‘I’ll just try to wipe some of this mud off.’
‘No time! Walk in five, four, three…’ The voice trails off and I obediently begin my walk of shame down the catwalk towards the big silver heart. I put one sky-scraping heel down carefully at a time. I’m almost at the heart when the sky grows dark again. I scamper as best I can to the end.
I see five gorgeous couples sitting in a semicircle by the firepit. They all have grins stuck to their faces. The show’s presenter, Destiny – half woman, half fringe – is looking absolutely fabulous anddry. She announces me as theLove on the Islandbombshell from beneath the safety of a gazebo, which is successfully covering the firepit and all the contestants. The words have barely left her lips when the heavens open yet again, and what feels like a bucket of water lands on my head, knocking me clean off the catwalk.
In an instant, the downpour magically stops. With the help of my runner, who also got caught in the deluge, I slip and slide my way to a standing position, which is not easy in these death traps strapped to my legs.
‘Cut!’ Porscha bellows, striding over to me. ‘What are you doing?’ She doesn’t even wait for me to answer. She swivels around with what looks like a smirk on her face.
‘From the top!’
Another runner comes over to help me back onto the catwalk and, between them, they wipe what mud they can from my legs and arms. One of them flicks my wet hair from my face. I see her glance briefly at my breasts. She is trying not to look alarmed, but her eyes are telling a different story.
I look down. The monokini is all but see-through. My nipples are like two champagne corks trying to burst through.
Shitting hell.
But it isn’t until she is reattaching the microphone pack on to the back of my waist that she lets out an audible gasp.
‘What is it?’ I demand.
She becomes mute and shakes her head at me.
‘What is it?’ I hiss.
She leans in. ‘Don’t turn around. Whatever you do.’
‘Why?’
‘It looks like… I mean, I know it’s mud, but it looks like you’ve had… Just don’t turn around.’
Oh my God. I’m going to have a heart attack. Cam will think I’ve been at the gluten again.
‘Action!’
All the Islanders are now looking at me with distraught expressions as I hobble my way over to them. My hair is soaked and hanging limply down past my shoulders. Not a beach wave in sight. Water is running down my face and pooling on my chin, to drip off like a tap. I can see their eyes are out on stalks because it looks as though I am naked. I may as well be.
The rain was cold, but it still feels bizarrely hot. I stop in front of the firepit and begin to shiver. ‘Hi, I’m Libby. I’m a teacher and I like reading and Sudoku.’
Destiny looks horrified and visibly unwilling to approach me. ‘What an entrance,’ is all she can say. ‘Libby, how does it feel to be our firstLove on the Islandbombshell?’
‘Great,’ I manage, my teeth chattering. I place one arm across my chest to cover my protruding nipples and the other hand over my monokini bottoms. I don’t care what it looks like. I’d rather not be flashing my bits to the world. ‘So great, yeah. Loving it.’
I have never regretted a decision so much in my entire life.
‘So, who have you got your eye on? Anyone in particular?’ She sweeps her arm across the Islanders sitting around the firepit, all coupled up and immaculate-looking.
