It would be the very essence of borderline stalking and personal disrespect. Besides, a bedroom says a lot about a person. If nice and tidy, it could make a lasting impression and have you signing up to a lifetime of wedded bliss. If utterly disgusting, it could have you running screaming for the hills. I sit down on the sofa and stare at the wall. I can’t put on the TV because it will make a noise.
A few minutes of me drumming my shellac nails on the table go by. I get back up again and pace the length of the trailer. There’s not an inch unused. Every surface is multipurpose. Shelves flip up, hidden drawers pull out, the sofa is also a bed, the bench is also storage. It’s so clever. I wonder how big the bedroom is in terms of square footage. Just from a professional point of view. Not that I’m thinking of leaving teaching and retraining as an interior designer any time soon. But what’s the harm in peeking? Just a little look. I reach out to push the door open when the trailer door rattles suddenly, and two loud voices begin talking outside.
‘Cameron, you in?’ someone shouts before banging on the trailer door. ‘Cameron?Cameron?’
‘I’ll look through the window,’ I hear a man reply.
I barely have time to dive onto the bedroom floor as I swiftly pull the duvet down over my head.
‘No one in there. I can’t really see for the blinds. I’ll go round the back and you knock again.’ He thumps so loudly it shakes the whole trailer, causing me to jump with fright. I only just manage not to shriek and pull the duvet further down to cover me thoroughly.
‘He’s not in. We need to make a judgement call. Come over here.’
I hear the sound of footsteps right outside the bedroom and the two voices lower substantially. ‘We don’t have to tell him.’
‘No. I disagree, Gram. I think we do have tell him, otherwise what if they find out?’
‘How will they find out? Only you and me know, and the idiot who put the camera up in the wrong spot. He’ll be off-site and away by now anyway.’
‘True, but if the producers find out there’s a blind spot and the contestants realise it’s there, then we are fucked. You know what Porscha is like. She’s got microphones in every toilet, shower, nook and cranny. She’s even got them hidden in the bushes in case any of them try to have a quick snog without her seeing.’
Toilets? Bushes?
‘Either we come clean and put production back three or four days, or we keep quiet and pray no one notices. There’s only a square metre of blind spot where neither camera nor microphone will pick up. I could even put a recycle bin there. Who would sneak round the back of the beach hut to have bin-sex anyway? It’s not like it’s an actual alleyway.’
Who has bin-sex down alleyways? Is this a thing? Is this what contestants do?
‘Doubt they’ll recycle either. Good plan. That’s what we’ll do.’
‘What about the secret door at the back of the pantry? Did you get that fixed?’
‘Yes. Just don’t tell her the camera is there instead of outside. Anyway, it’s the camera connectors in the hides that have got Porscha’s knickers in a twist. She wants connectivity and she wants it now. We’re shooting the originals’ entrances tomorrow and none of them are working. She is on the warpath. If we tell her we are going to delay the shoot for a few days, she will sack us all.’
The show starts tomorrow? I’m obviously not one of the originals!
‘Shit. Here they are. Quick! Hide down here so they don’t see us.’
I hear a rustling noise, and a scraping sound, as though they are crouching down under the bedroom window. At the opposite end of the trailer, I can hear Cam raising his voice outside.
‘It’s under control, Porscha. I’ll let you know as soon as it is sorted.’
She says something back that I can’t quite hear, then Cameron responds.
‘You want to come into my trailer?’ he is saying in an exaggerated voice that is getting nearer. He sounds like a pantomime villain with something to hide. The irony that he is hiding me, and I’m hiding from the two men outside, and they in turn are hiding from him, is making me want to giggle. It’s ridiculous. This is a multimillion-dollar show that is broadcast all over the world, and yet here we all are, hiding from each other like some kind of cheesy romcom.
‘Sorry, but I’m on my way to fix the problem with the connectors. I just need to pick up my laptop and then I’ll be off to the villa to meet the electrical team. Can we video-call later?’
I am dying to see this Porscha she-devil that they all seem to fear. I sneak out of the bedroom and tiptoe along past the sofa and the kitchen bench and slip onto the desk seat to peek through one of the windows. I slide the blind out just enough to see the back of Cam talking to a tall woman. She has flame-red hair falling like curtains to her shoulders. She is wearing beige platform wedges and standing with her legs crossed, her hands on her hips and her head tilted attractively to one side. She is beautifully and fully made-up and has a tight-fitting T-shirt, denim shorts like mine and legs up to her armpits. And she clearly likes him because she is doing the hair twirl thing. I watch as she reaches out to rest her hand on his shoulder. Now she’s gently rubbing her hand up and down his arm. Her body language is screaming,Quick, take me, take me now, Cameron! Up against the bins!And now she is pouting sulkily because he won’t let her inside his trailer.
I feel a tiny stab of jealousy. What would he do if he wasn’t hiding me in here? Would he have let her in? Is the attraction reciprocated?
She is biting her lip and batting her lashes at him. Pur-leese. It’s too obvious. She hands him something and laughs. He’s almost dropping whatever it is. I wish I could see his face. I can’t make out what they are saying to each other, but she is nodding her head and waving her phone at him. Finally, she heads off and Cam spins round. He looks relieved.
I still jump a mile when he barges through the door and slams it shut with his foot. I am sitting innocently at his desk when he comes over and dumps loads of small packets onto it. There’s an awkward moment where I look at the packets and realise that they are all condoms. Gold glittery condoms in the shape of hearts. Then Cam looks at where I am sitting. Right next to a pile of confidential papers.
‘I haven’t read them!’ I whisper loudly, sounding guilty even though I’m not.
‘What have you been doing for the half-hour I’ve been away?’ he whispers back just as the door to his bedroom flaps open. The duvet is crumpled on the floor. It looks like I’ve been in and ransacked the place.