Joni, later that evening
As Joni made her weak-kneed way back to the shelter for some much-needed sleep after their narrow escape, Lex emerged from the editing tent, holding aloft something furry.
‘Safe, my dear? Lovely. And here’s the Archferret himself.’
Joni exhaled in relief, clasped Des to her bosom like a long-lost child and grinned. ‘Oh, Lex, thanks so much for looking after him. I just couldn’t put him through that, you know, if we had been banished. I’m sure the drop would be the end of him. He’s had –’
She covered his tiny quivering ears delicately.
‘– a very rough life.’
Lex cooed sympathetically and gave Des a last scratch on the head.
‘Well, now I have your imprimatur, perhaps Des and I can hang out again? It’s terrifically lonely at the top, you know.’
Lex’s wry smile made Joni laugh, and she noticed how white his teeth were in that self-deprecating smile. The smile made him look younger, less jaded.
Nigel had appeared unnoticed, sparkly and freshly pressed, from the editing tent, looking the tiniest fraction put out as he took in Lex ministering to Des like the poster boy for foster parenting.
Joni smiled at Lex cooing at Des as Nigel hissed in Joni’s ear, ‘No-one says “imprimatur”. What is this guy on?’
‘Bit of everything, I think,’ she responded, unperturbed by the thought, and feeling warm and tingly as she continued to watch Lex and Des.
Frankie, who had just appeared from the direction of the beach and had said some pretty sarcastic things about Lex herself in the past, looked like she wanted to murder Nigel. ‘I know I’ve asked this before,’ she sighed, without a trace of good manners, ‘but what in God’s name are you still doing here?’
‘Ah,’ Nigel sighed back. ‘I thought I’d explained that, before the Banishment? Which was super telly, incidentally. I was watching the live feed from the tent. Amazing what they can do in such primitive –’
‘Cut to the chase.’
‘The firm is very keen to ensure there are no irregularities. So, I’m required to ensure you are both coping and there are no … irregularities.’ He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. ‘The partners have been watching the show, and are extremely worried about their potential … exposure … for orchestrating this aspect of your grandmother’s will.’
‘Huh?’ Joni didn’t have a clue what Nigel meant.
Frankie, on the other hand, had been married to a lawyer for way too long.
‘They’re covering their collective arses,’ she supplied bitterly. ‘This will be great publicity for the firm … provided there are no disasters. Isn’t that right, Nigel?’
‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,’ he agreed. ‘I would be lying if I said the partners didn’t have a degree of interest in the ratings.’
Frankie and Joni looked at each other, and a thought buzzed between them like a harking back to the telepathy they had shared as children.
Why were the producers allowing this?
Nigel continued. ‘Mr Schuster arranged to have the firm briefly visit to ensure all is above board. The producers agreed.’
Frankie enquired, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking why “The Firm” has suddenly become so concerned? What the hell are they showing back there?’
Nigel replied, ‘Oh, Frances, you know I can’t tell you. I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement that I divulge nothing about events or coverage back home. Consider me a mere observer. A … silent friend. With your best interests at heart.’
Frankie looked like she wanted to murder him, again. And then chop up his body. Joni was torn. As much as she’d been pleased to see Nigel a few hours ago, Lex made him seem less attractive, less substantial somehow. It didn’t seem right. What had seemed posh and sexy in London seemed a bit silly out here. And she wasn’t sure she could trust him. Which was mad, really. She’d hardly ever been able to trust anyone, and that hadn’t stood in the way of her forming relationships in the past, had it?
Joni wondered what Lex, who had remained beside her, casually petting Des while the conversation took place, was making of Nigel’s explanations. There was something about Lex that made her believe he told the truth. Like G. And truth was one commodity that had been in short supply in Joni’s life. She remembered Lex, honest and self-deprecating on the beach. He hadn’t been trying to pretend he was anything other than disinterested in the show. Not like their father, whose life had been an extended job interview. Or their mother, whose life had been a gala performance.
‘Come on, Frances,’ Nigel encouraged her. ‘I can assure you it’s all tickety-boo. Now, how are you two preparing for the water challenge?’
Day 12
It had been two days since the conversation with Nigel and, almost every waking hour since, Frankie had, under Joni’s tutelage, been facing down her ocean demons.
Frankie had always been a good-enough swimmer, but few of their father’s postings had been to the kind of places that had piers and beachside cafés.
One summer, Lizzie and Carter had decided a holiday at Brighton might be the antidote for their troubled marriage. The girls, dimly aware of the wild currents of another kind involving their parents, had nevertheless been beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of swimming in the sea.
Although she’d only been thirteen, the highlight of Joni’s holiday had been a boy with a dragon tattoo, and an unknown source of income that supplied seemingly limitless funds for buying Joni ice-creams and tempting her to go under the pier.
It was during one of these forays that Joni had heard her sister screaming.
As she had stumbled out from under the dock, the high-noon sun had outlined the beach, like in one of those paintings they sold in shops for tourists. Joni had begun to sprint towards the sound of Frankie’s terror. Within seconds, she had spotted her, dripping and dishevelled, limping out of the sea and spluttering furiously at Joni.
‘I got dumped …’ she hiccupped. ‘And … and pinned. Pinned under. I thought I was going to die. And where were you, you little …’ She searched for the right word. ‘… derelict. With that bloody –’ Frankie hiccupped again ‘– bloody drug dealer.’
Joni had not been able to keep from laughing at Frankie’s extreme reaction, even as she said, ‘He’s not a drug dealer.’
But she’d felt terrible. And she’d understood that for Frankie, the sea was just like a storm. Wild and uncontrollable.
Not to be trusted.
Suffice to say, the whole incident had also not done Frankie any favours when it came to confidence in the surf. And so, now, on Endurance Island, they practised.
Every hour Frankie and Joni survived another training session without killing each other, they rewarded themselves with a HobNob from the precious stash they’d won when Frances had eaten a live witchetty grub during Tuesday’s food challenge.
They’d started on the beach, Joni getting Frankie to lie on her belly while she worked on her swimming style, making sure she paid attention to her stroke and kick positioning, as well as talking to her about the right way to breathe.
Today, as previously negotiated, they’d removed their mike packs and moved into the shallows. At the end of the session, Joni looked at Frankie and gave her a round of applause. ‘That’s great, Frankie, you’re really getting there!’
‘Really?’ Her sister looked dubious.
‘I swear.’ Joni crossed herself. ‘You’ve got the prettiest stroke I’ve ever seen.’
Before closing her face down again, Frankie looked like she’d won the lottery. ‘You’re just trying to build my confidence.’
Joni crouched next to her on the sand. ‘Frankie,’ she insisted. ‘There’s no person on earth who ever thought you needed a confidence boost.’
Frankie nodded, looking mollified, and Joni smiled. Then she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. ‘It’s happening Friday, Frankie. That’s three days away and all they’ve told us is that it’s a water challenge. Kinda suggests swimming is going to be required. Technically, you’re a fine swimmer, but you are going to have to get in the ocean, properly, at some point soon.’
‘Of course. Just not yet.’ Frankie’s eyes were pleading.
‘When? I need an undertaking.’
Frankie’s shoulders slumped as she sat in the shallows. ‘It’s not the same,’ she moaned.
‘The same as what?’
‘The same as Kensington Baths. It’s so …’ She peered out at the vast expanse of ocean. ‘Wild.’
Joni nodded sympathetically. ‘Yes,’ she said gently. ‘But it’s Endurance Island, Frankie. Not Kensington.’
‘I know, I know.’
The two women had been trying desperately to ignore the little party of onlookers who had taken to watching their practice sessions. Yesterday, as Joni had tried to manhandle Frankie into the water, The Stapler had arrived with mobile video units so quickly that she hadn’t even let Camera One do up his fly. Today, Nick and Lex, along with Takahiro and Kazuki, enjoyed the unfolding saga.
‘Get in the water, you reediculous British princess!’
Takahiro shook his fist in the gesture that had become so commonplace that Joni and Frankie had started to wave cheerily at him in response.
‘You bring shame on your country, pretending to sweem in the sand like crab.’
Frankie had had just about enough and hauled herself out of the shallows, then stalked up the beach towards him, past an appreciative Nick and an amused Lex.
‘If you do not shut the bloody hell up, I will tear your throat out, you snide little nob!’
Joni, frozen, felt sure she would.
Before she could reach her target, two things happened. First, Kazuki leaped manfully in front of his elder, prepared to risk his life against the wailing banshee descending upon him. He held up his hands, in the universal language of karate.
Next, Nick sighed and strode briskly towards the fray, reaching Frankie before she could immolate Kazuki with the sheer force of her rage. He plucked her from the sand like she was an unwilling ewe and strode down to the water. At first too shocked to struggle, by the time they hit water, Frankie was kicking and flailing like a madwoman. But Nick appeared barely to feel her blows.
He strode out until they were waist deep, at which point he tipped Frankie from his shoulder, held her fiercely with one hand while she flailed ineffectually, and used his other hand to effect the kind of whistle, Joni imagined, was used to call sheepdogs.
‘Joni,’ he commanded, like a Roman emperor. ‘She’s in now. Come and finish your lesson.’
When Joni reached him, and took hold of Frankie, who, by this stage, had stopped struggling but was repeatedly opening and closing her mouth in shock, he grunted, ‘You’re doing a good job, love. You make a great teacher. She’s lucky to have you.’
Frankie looked at him like he had turned her over to the Gestapo. ‘Fuck you,’ she hissed.
Nick grinned.
Joni drew in a breath, shocked.
At least she’d finally learned how to swear.
Day 15
The immunity challenge came upon them in the steamy mid morning of Hell on Earth.
‘Would you like me to mind the little gent for you?’
Lex’s polished tones caressed Joni from somewhere behind and to her left. They sent a little shiver down her spine, and a warm, spreading light through her belly.
Nice to have a friend.
Joni and Lex had been bonding over the past week, and especially the night before, over charades, white rice and HobNobs. Lex had even nursed Des for a while, and Joni knew it was Des he was referring to now, as she prepared for the weekly challenge. She recalled Frankie’s words: Can’t hurt to have him on our side, even if he is a useless arse.
Joni had been indignant and Frankie had relented. Somewhat.
A nice useless arse.
Joni understood why Frankie would have formed that opinion. She, too, had been increasingly surprised by the back seat Lex took, especially when The Stapler was such a maniacal twat. But she liked the way he looked at life, and at her. Like she was interesting, and full of potential. Just the day before, Lex had started asking her about her plans, about what she would do if she won the money. When she’d told him about her plans to expand the shelter, he hadn’t snorted or dismissed her. Instead, he’d asked lots of clever questions, about charitable tax rates and canine life expectancy. And he had nodded, in a definite kind of way, as if confirming that she would, of course, do all those things. And as though they were excellent ideas.
Also, Lex said things like ‘Jolly good’ when she’d managed to walk across hot coals without singeing her feet, or ‘Splendid effort’ when she’d swum the fetid swamp without complaint for the first time in two weeks. And when he said those things, in that clever, cultivated voice of his, and with that nice, slightly sloping smile, it made Joni feel warm, and like maybe life was, indeed, full of possibility.
Like maybe she was full of possibility.
And not just a multi-award-winning loser.
So, yeah, it was nice to have a friend.
‘Sure, Lex, that’d be great. What do you think, little fella?’
She brought Des’s twitching nose up to her own, and looked him in the eye.
‘Remember, you only have to give me the signal, and I won’t make you go with him. You are my number-one priority.’
Lex chuckled, and rolled his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll take wonderful care of him, Joni,’ he breathed dramatically. ‘Now, come over here to me, Mr Tutu, and watch Mummy go for a little swim.’
Joni squinted carefully at the small island lying approximately a mile offshore. Multiple summers spent skiving off at the pool had ensured she was a more-than-able swimmer, and she knew she was up to the task.
Frankie, on the other hand, was cataloguing her concerns. ‘I’m not going to make it. I know it. Even with the lessons. I’m going to become food for the sharks. I could get a stingray barb through the heart. A box jellyfish might bite me. I’m just not ready.’
Joni worked hard on nonchalant. ‘Bollocks. You survived the swamp. And you’ve been getting better in the ocean ever since you … got in. Let’s face it, no-one can apply themselves to studying like you can.’
Frances harrumphed. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
Joni returned the harrumph. ‘Well, maybe if you hadn’t been quite such a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, and had spent more time at the pool, like a teenager, and less time with your head in a book, like a girlie swat, you could swim like Flipper now.’
Lex, still cuddling Des, offered Frankie a fair point look.
Frankie looked like she would have flattened him if he hadn’t been crew. ‘Since when did you become her champion?’ Her voice sounded frayed and the telltale tic was gyrating like a pole dancer. ‘And why don’t I have a bloody champion? I’m the one who really needs one right now.’
Joni could tell Frankie was trying hard to resist the urge to glance over at Nick, as she pouted like a whiny princess without a knight in shining armour.
Joni, on the other hand, felt no such compunction.
Nick had stripped down to a tiny pair of swimming trunks, and Joni had to remind herself continually that she couldn’t stand being around guys who wore those things. Because, looking at him, she was pretty sure any woman within a hundred miles would stand, sit, lie or kneel to be around the guy. In any position he wanted.
Doing anything he asked.
Joni realised as she watched him, standing there, oiled and nearly naked, that Nick was exactly the sort of man she herself had always gone for. A man who worked with his hands. Rough, reliable and oh-so-ready. The kind Frankie had always scoffed at, as she went to the debating society with Egg-Head Edward.
But Joni felt nothing, other than a certain amount of artistic appreciation, as she looked at Nick.
And Frankie was a long way from scoffing now.
No. She was looking over at Nick too, the pull of his ferocious magnetism simply too much for her.
More than looking, in fact. Joni swore she saw the tiniest sliver of drool escape Frankie’s mouth as she feasted on the long, brown, hard glory of the man. And Joni saw the briefest of looks shoot back to Frankie from the Man of Steel himself.
Frankie returned her attention to Lex, disgorging vitriol with renewed energy.
‘What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be somewhere making sure we don’t all get eaten?’
‘Oh, God no,’ Lex offered cheerfully. ‘That’s Stunt Management’s bailiwick. All that macho stuff.’
Something about the word macho made Frankie, Joni and Lex all stare down the beach towards Nick, who was warming up on the sand, stretching his impressive arms and running vigorously on the spot.
‘Come on then, gel.’ Lex broke the spell with a, really quite impressive, bout of cockney. ‘Git yer gear off and git in the water.’
Something about the way he said it, like they were headed for a dip at Brighton, made it all seem less frightening. And Joni wondered, thinking back on her lack of reaction to Nick’s glory, whether Lex was ruining her for other men. Possibly. But she also noticed she didn’t care.
Joni laughed like a ten-year-old and peeled off her stretchy orange sundress to reveal the black one-piece that had caused the network’s switchboard to jam after the second episode had aired. The swimsuit left long bare slices at either side of her navel, while the words ‘Die Tory Scum’ danced beguilingly across her breasts as Joni performed the preparatory star jumps that had become her habit before physical challenges.
Frankie had actively encouraged this practice, assuring Joni that all that jiggling could only have a positive effect on their votes, so she was pretty sure Frankie couldn’t now legitimately tell her to sit down and grow up. Frankie simply sighed and peeled off her own clothes to reveal an elegant black one-piece.
Joni, with a tiny twinkle in her eye, looked over at Kandy and Misty. ‘As director, are you at all concerned Kandy has an unfair advantage?’
Lex swivelled quickly before raising an elegant eyebrow.
‘Extra buoyancy, you know,’ Joni offered helpfully, eyeing the massive breasts that looked to be contemplating a break for freedom.
Lex shook his head and laughed. ‘Everyone has the attributes nature or surgery gave them,’ he assured Joni, and then carefully nodded to Frankie. ‘Think of it this way. I’m fairly sure the cameras are going to be far less interested in you than in the contents of that swimsuit. So, do what you like – dog paddle, if it suits – as long as you get back in one piece.’
For the first time, Joni noticed a small tremor in Lex’s usually confident voice. Was he worried? Oh, fuck. She couldn’t afford for Frankie to be freaked out any more than she already was, so she smiled bravely.
‘Good point, Mr Director. When do we get the briefing?’
‘I’m starting shortly,’ he offered in clipped tones, his face unreadable.
Joni and Frankie looked at each other quickly.
Unusual. Why was he doing the briefing, and not The Stapler?
They looked over to where Sally Staples stood beside the main bank of cameras, as several more were loaded onto a medium-sized boat with Endurance Island tattooed across its hide. She was gesticulating fiercely at one of the cameramen as he strapped himself into a life vest, and pointing dramatically towards Kandy.
Her meaning was abundantly clear.
Miss an escaping nipple, and you’ll never work again.
Joni asked, ‘Why are you doing it? The Sta– Sally usually does the briefings.’
Lex adjusted the jaunty little sailor shirt he’d donned for the occasion and pulled his white cap down to hide his eyes. ‘Sally has laryngitis,’ he said, with his trademark twinkle.
As Joni and Frankie stood there, thrilled at this latest development, Kazuki and Takahiro darted up to them, like men on a covert, and possibly life-threatening, mission.
‘Stupid Breetish Heiresses,’ the elder of them intoned. ‘Today you will learn you cannot bluff your way through everytheeng.’
He paused for a maniacal laugh that would have done The Stapler proud. Kazuki looked at the ground, and then at the two sisters. ‘Good luck, Jonee, Frankee,’ he said softly. Takahiro glared at him but Kazuki held his ground. ‘In ancient battle, warrior always fight with honour.’
Takahiro sneered. ‘Today you will see true honour. Today you will see the men separated from the seely leetle girls.’
‘Ah, excuse me,’ Lex interrupted. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt you in mid tirade, but I think your tag might be sticking out.’
He pointed helpfully to the label on Takahiro’s scuba vest, protuding under his jutting chin. ‘Actually, is it …? Could you possibly have it on … backwards?’
Joni laughed, and Takahiro offered one final, stabbing stare, before stalking further up the beach, where he and Kazuki tore at the vest as though it were on fire.
As Lex gave a Whatever did I say wrong shrug, Joni watched Kazuki turn the vest out the right way for his elder. She reflected on what a tight team the two men were. And then there’s us …
She turned to Frankie to offer some final words of comfort, but was beaten by Lex, who had taken his place atop a small box in the centre of a ring of contestants. She wasn’t quite sure when the ring had formed, but was surprised by how poised Lex looked, given his almost complete neglect of any management responsibilities to date. He never did the morning briefings. Never set up the challenges. Paid little attention to the crew. But now, here he was.
He cleared his throat, and then began speaking in his Don’t scare the horses voice. Joni was momentarily distracted by an errant thought about what it would be like to hear that voice whispering to her between the sheets.
Or on the sand.
She startled, and wondered whether she was actually considering shagging someone with their shit even less together than her own. Imagine what disaster could result from such a coupling. It might end even more tragically than Lizzie and Carter.
‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, thank you all so much for making the trip here on this lovely sunny day and donning such a delightful array of swimming costumes.’
Was that a particularly appreciative glance towards her? Joni’s stomach quivered, and this time it definitely wasn’t due to pre-challenge nerves.
The crowd laughed and relaxed. Fractionally.
‘Now, you might be wondering why I am doing the honours today and not our erstwhile cheerleader, Ms Staples.’
He gestured in a benevolent kind of way to The Stapler, who had moved closer to listen but wore a mask of stone. ‘What say we indulge in a small round of applause for Sally, who really has done a terrific job to date?’
The contestants clapped in a half-hearted way, resulting in it sounding as though there were far too few claps for the number assembled.
‘Right, then; lovely,’ Lex continued. ‘Well, as I was saying, Mr Driscoe will do the formal voice-over for the cameras shortly, but the indomitable Ms Staples has suggested I undertake the technical briefing today because she has developed a sudden bout of laryngitis. Most unfortunate.’
Not for us, Joni thought, relieved that at least today they wouldn’t have to be screamed at in addition to battling the waves. The crowd leaned in closer, mesmerised by curiosity and the low, seductive timbre of Lex’s voice.
‘Now, my friends,’ he almost whispered. ‘What you do today will be dangerous and wild, and possibly the greatest adventure of your lives. You are to swim to Perseverance Island –’
He gestured towards the island, which lay a mile from the shore on which they stood.
‘– retrieve an ancient symbol of potency and good fortune, and return to this beach. You go together, and …’ he built the tension with a delicate upward lilt ‘… both of you must make it back. You stand and fall together.’
Joni recalled reading somewhere that Lex Margate had started his theatrical career as a Shakespearean actor. He was good. Very good. They were hanging on his every word.
Frankie whispered in Joni’s ear, in that licky way that Joni had almost started getting used to again. ‘Good God, he’s not bad. Makes it sound exciting. Why’s he been arseing around on the beach all this time instead of getting on with it?’
Joni shrugged. She really had no idea.
‘Rescue and first aid crews will, of course, be available, should you need them. However, should you avail yourself of this facility, you will forfeit both the immunity the symbol offers, and …’
Did he actually look directly at Frankie before he went on?
‘… the chance to prove something to the deepest part of yourself. Something about your resilience, and your power, and the strength we all possess inside.’
‘Fuck me,’ Joni whispered back to Frankie. ‘I think I just came.’
Frankie laughed and then, suddenly, standing together on the beach, looking over at the tiny dot of an island they were expected to swim to through water that was probably infested with sharks and God-knows-what-else, Joni felt like they were children again.
Scared, but brave and together.
It felt good.
But all good things die, screaming, on Endurance Island.
Just as they were being herded down to the water in order to begin, Nick ambled over.
‘Nice way with words, eh?’
He was talking to them both, but was the only man on the island who had shown no more than a passing interest in the words emblazoned on Joni’s chest. He only had eyes for Frankie.
‘You feeling all right, Frances?’
He touched her shoulder in a friendly sort of way but something about the way he said ‘Frances’ made Joni catch her breath. It sounded so tender; more of an endearment than if he had said ‘love of my life’.
Frankie turned and smiled into his face. ‘Yeah,’ she sighed, looking surprised. ‘I think I am, actually. Anyway,’ she inclined her head in the direction of Kandy and Misty, ‘if there are sharks, I’m sure I’m not going to be the tastiest item on the menu.’
Nick looked like he was about to disagree, when another voice sliced through the air, thick with tenderness and good feeling.
‘Oh, there’re sharks all right, Frances.’ Cheryl emphasised her name in a way that made it clear to everyone that she’d heard Nick’s affectionate words. ‘In fact, my great-uncle used to trawl these waters, and his first mate lost a leg to one up here. A great white. No shit. But don’t worry, they’re pretty cluey. They never attack groups. As long as you don’t fall behind the rest of us, you’ll be fine – I’m sure.’
Frankie looked like she was about to hyperventilate.
‘Leave off, Cheryl,’ Nick chastised the woman who stood with venom in her eyes and koalas on her breasts. He turned to Frankie.
‘I always thought that was just a tall tale that Old Bill had made up. Don’t worry, the producers can’t afford to have anything go wrong. You’ll be safe.’
He squeezed Frankie’s arm, before taking Cheryl’s and propelling her to the water.
Joni trudged resignedly down to the shoreline with Frankie, and she was sure she saw her sister cross herself as they went.