PING.
Lois has a text. She looks about to burst with excitement. ‘I got a text!’
‘She’s always wanted to do that,’ says Tyrone.
‘Destiny, Destiny! I got a text,’ Lois yells. ‘Destiny, I think you are amazing.’
‘Read it out then,’ says Destiny in a patient tone.
‘I love you by the way,’ Lois tells her. ‘You’re the best presenter. And we all love you in England. You’re totally famous over there.’
Destiny perks up. ‘Well, let’s hope all the UK viewers get voting for you to stay in the villa, Libby. Now, honey, how about that text. What does it say?’
‘Old Islanders. Get ready to fight for your place in the villa hashtag bring it on, hashtag best self, hashtag anything goes. Oh my God, is this for real?’ Lois asks. ‘What does it even mean?’
‘It means, old Islanders, that tonight you are going to have to earn your place here and seduce one of the new Islanders into letting you stay.’ Destiny has a huge grin plastered to her face. ‘You’ll be pulling out all the stops. Get your party piece ready!’
The camera pans out to the cocky-looking newbies sat looking like the cats that got the cream and then the worried glances of the oldies. Only Lois seems remotely up for it. The others all look increasingly deflated.
Tyrone groans. ‘God, she’ll love flirting up a storm in there. She’d better not do her party piece with any of them.’
Cam pulls a yikes face at me behind his back, and I try not to laugh. Lois will love doing her party piece on TV.
‘Get your glad rags on. Party starts in one hour!’ bellows Destiny.
‘Cut!’ yells Porscha, making a beeline for Destiny, who whips out two vapes and hands her one. They start chugging away like lab rats while all the Islanders make their way over to the main villa.
‘Look at the muscles on that one!’ cries Tyrone. ‘And Jesus, look at him. He looks like an aftershave model. I’m sure he’s been on TV before.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ I say.
‘It’s not her I’m worried about,’ he jokes. ‘Lois will eat them all alive.’
We watch them pile into the dressing room. It looks chaotic. New bodies, new cases full of outfits, and shoes scattered everywhere. They are jostling for space and the oldies are changing out of their boiler suits, as Lois subtly looks around for my case full of clothes. Cam and I trade worried glances.
‘Did you tell her about the pineapple case?’
‘No, did you?’
Cam shakes his head. At that moment, on-screen, a runner enters dragging two ginormous suitcases.
‘Hey, Libby, your luggage finally arrived,’ he says, and I instantly recognise the two cases. We see relief spread over her face as she thanks him and immediately pops them open.
‘At least she has clothes to wear, and all the new people will draw attention away from her,’ I say to Tyrone.
Cam interrupts. ‘Sorry, folks, I need to go back to the production village, pronto, before Porscha gets suspicious.’
‘I’ll help you pack this lot up,’ I offer.
Tyrone says he is going to bed to sleep off the jet lag. ‘We’ll get a plan together when I wake up.’
‘I’ll show you your room before I head off,’ says Cam to me. ‘You’re booked in under a false name. Ty says their luggage didn’t arrive either, so I’ll chase it up when I get a moment. I’ll bring some stuff over later because I’m afraid your backup case is in the villa.’
We leave Tyrone and head out into the hotel corridor. ‘I really appreciate everything that you’re doing for us,’ I say once we arrive at my room, a few doors down from Tyrone and Lois’s room.
‘It also means that you have to stay in your room tonight, I’m afraid. The show is aired every night, and the locals know that we are somewhere in this area, so you’ll be spotted immediately if you go out. Especially as you are so like your sister to look at.’ Cam shakes his head. ‘It’s so… bizarre.’
‘Shame. My one night of freedom and I’m stuck here.’