‘Not Germanji. I meant Giovanni. That’s right. He’s half Italian and from New Yoik. So, now who doesn’t know her man?’ Mimi says, her voice full of ‘I told you so’.
The atmosphere has turned on a knife edge over absolutely nothing.
‘Just because I can’t remember who I’m coupled up with doesn’t mean we don’t share a deep connection,’ Kassy argues back. ‘Besides, I like Marcel. I might be in with a chance now because he obviously didn’t like the look of Libby.’
‘All I know is that I have fantasised my whole life of being on this show. It is my absolute dream to become an influencer, and if being in a couple with Giovanni is the way to make it happen, then that’s what I’ll do.’ The girls look at Mimi smiling, until she says, ‘So hands off. Everyone back-off my man. He’s mine.’
‘Doesn’t that rather defeat the object of the game?’ I ask.
The girls look at me nodding before they pounce on Mimi.
‘Hang on a second, girlfriend,’ says Amber. ‘I am open. So don’t tell me to back off anyone.’
‘I am very open too,’ says Binky. ‘Wide open.’
I have started a whole host of bickering. I am a slutty British villain in the making, and it is all my own doing.
A phone pings while I am putting the finishing touches to my make-up. I have gone for a soft, natural, clean look. My hair is hanging in soft waves, framing my face. I’ve added a swipe of mascara to my already full Tatti lashes and clear gloss to my lips. I might just sweep some powder over my chin as it is looking shiny in this heat.
‘I GOT A TEXT!’ screams Amber, causing me to drop my pot of powder. ‘CAN ALL THE LOVE ON THE ISLANDERS MEET AT THE FIREPIT?’
This causes an almighty and unnecessary kerfuffle, with all the girls leaping about squealing excitedly before they realise, they have run out of time to finish getting ready.
‘What will we do? What will the boys think? Destiny needs to see us all at our best!’ Mimi yells in panic.
‘Libby, you haven’t even started on your look yet!’ Amber howls, coming at me with brushes and her massive palette. She swishes the brush over my face, smudges some sticks of foundation down my nose and starts rubbing furiously. ‘Someone, do something with her hair!’
In an about turn, we are suddenly all banding together. Time pressure and a race against the clock have created an unexpected camaraderie. A fashion collective. Women supporting women. Girl power. Sisters are doing it for themselves. Buying our own flowers and holding our own hands. Because we need to look nice for our men. Who we barely know.
Another phone pings. More squeals.
‘GET READY FOR FIREWORKS HASHTAG RECOUPLING HASHTAG DUMPED FROM THE ISLAND HASHTAG BOMBSHELL,’ Kassy says, her voice petering out.
We all take a moment to let this digest.
‘What? Another one of us is going to get dumped from the island? This is brutal. I bet it’s me,’ cries Binky. ‘Libby’s going to steal my man.’
They all turn slowly to pin me to my seat, staring at me like zombies out of a horror movie. Just then my phone pings. I gingerly open the message hoping for better news, while we all hold our breath.
I get ready to bellow it out just like we’ve been told to do. As soon as I see the first line the words die on my lips, and I exhale noisily instead.
It is from Porscha.
‘DO NOT READ THIS OUT LOUD.’ My eyes flick to the girls and back to my phone. ‘Meet me in the outside kitchen food cupboard now! Do not tell anyone where you are going.’
‘What does it say?’ asks Mimi.
I shrug. ‘Nothing.’
‘It can’t be nothing,’ says Kassy. ‘Come on, girl. What does it say?’
Under the confused gaze of the girls, I rise calmly from the carousel and leave the room in silence.
I can hear them frantically gossiping as I make my way to the outside kitchen and slip through the door marked ‘PANTRY’. The light is on, highlighting the fake snack food and fake tins lining the shelves. The back wall suddenly opens and Porscha drifts in looking immaculate. I pretend to look shocked as though I had no idea about the secret door.
‘Well, well, well. Don’t you scrub up nicely? I wonder where you found that?’ she says, looking and sounding disingenuous. I’m not sure what to say to her. Cam packed me a spectacular, orange and pink shift dress to wear and some pretty, pink matching sandals. My hair is newly straightened and spritzed to look glossy and swishy. My make-up is professionally appliedbecause Amber is a beautician and loves a challenge. It took her under ten seconds.
‘Pick Giovanni,’ she says before disappearing back through the door.
