‘Who?’
‘Hortense, your chaperone?’
‘Oh, her.’ I must sound deflated because he tuts.
‘Yep. She’s not the best chaperone. We get a lot of complaints about that one. Half French, half Mexican. It’s a fiery combination. She was born angry.’
Good Lord.
‘She’s not even introduced herself properly. She’s… she’s in the bathroom. She’s been in there since I arrived. I’m not sure she’s very well, judging by the sounds she’s making.’
Right on cue, she makes a sound like a distressed cow giving birth to a calf that’s half its own size.
His eyes grow wide with alarm. ‘I’ll ring it in. Thanks for letting me know. Okay, I’ll be off if there’s nothing else you need.’
He can’t get away fast enough.
‘Oh, there is one thing that I need,’ I shout after him. ‘Would it be possible to get these clothes cleaned, please?’
‘Sure, no problem,’ he says coming back to take the bag of stained clothes from me. ‘I’ll get them back to you in a couple of days.’
‘And has there been any news from the airport about my luggage?’
He shakes his head. When he sees my distraught face, he says, ‘Don’t worry. It’ll turn up eventually.’
Once I’ve put the food away, made myself a steaming hot mug of coffee and some fruit and yogurt for breakfast, I slip into my bikini and head out to the pool to read. This is more like it. I haven’t been on holiday for years so even being here, essentially alone, like I’m on a Trappist Monk’s extreme intermittent-fasting retreat, feels nice.
After the whole morning reading and not a peep from my chaperone, I find myself drifting off to sleep only to wake some moments later to the slamming of doors inside the villa and the sound of a car pulling up. I hurry inside, throwing the hospital gown over my tiny bikini to see what’s going on. The chaperone is green-faced and standing with her suitcase by the door.
‘I’m off to a hotel. I think it is food poisoning from your sandwich, but the powers-that-be aren’t sure and don’t want me to pass any bugs onto you. And for you then to pass the bugs on inside the Love on the Island villa.’
She sounds as though somehow it is my fault that her own sandwich has given her the shits.
‘So, I’m about to go in the villa? But what about my luggage?’ I try to hide my anxiety. ‘Will I be an original?’
‘What did I say?’ she booms grumpily. ‘No questions about when or even if you’re going on the show!’
‘But who is going to look for my luggage? Who will look after me? I have no way of contacting the runner because you haven’t given me any information since the moment I arrived.’
‘Again. We’re not babysitters.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘We’re Emotional Support and Well-being Officials. And FYI, there are more important things happening in the world than what outfits you are going to wear.’
God, she’s right. I’m letting this get too out of hand. It’s just a gameshow at the end of the day.
‘Important things like my entire village burned down while I’ve been ill,’ she says accusingly.
Oh, my God.I open my mouth to apologise.
‘And all my dragons died.’ She is spitting feathers. ‘All of them.’
I count to three in my head before I say anything. ‘So, who will my new Emotional Support and Well-being Official be?’
I hope they are saner than she is.
She screws her eyes at me. ‘Cameron. He’ll replace me until they figure something out.’
Cameron is coming over!
I glance over to the hallway mirror. My hair is a mess. Where are my expensive beach waves? My face is slightly sunburnt with streaks of two-day old make-up under my eyes. I am barefoot with matted hair and wearing a hospital gown. Just add a knife dripping blood and I could be an escapee from a horror movie.
