Page 39 of Too Busy for Love

Even Flo doesn’t admit to this one, and Dom sighs deeply. ‘You are not to post anything on social media about the show or any of the other contestants. You may upload pictures of the house as long as there are no people in the background, and youcan take and upload solo selfies. The Wi-Fi will be unavailable between midnight and six in the morning, as the production team need maximum bandwidth during that time to upload each day’s footage to the servers in London, ready for the HQ team to edit it in time to be broadcast the following evening. Any questions?’

Jason looks mutinous but says nothing, so Dom pulls out his walkie-talkie. A quick conversation reveals that Chris and Tim are ready to film the arrivals, so I slip through the door of my annexe and make my way through the house to the hallway to help Rosa with the bags.

We may only be a day in, but I’m starting to wonder if the concept of this show is seriously flawed. Our initial ten all met each other yesterday but, apart from a bit of posturing from the men, they haven’t shown any interest in each other at all. The conversation over the sumptuous dinner that Rosa provided last night was somewhere between stilted and non-existent, and they’ve pretty much ignored each other all day today, even during the times when they’re supposed to be downstairs and socialising. I can tell Gus isn’t happy; early this afternoon, he summoned Raquel into the library, which has been re-purposed as Chris and Tim’s control room after their plan to use the games room was derailed when Rosa flatly refused to allow them to move the snooker table. They were in there for quite a while and Raquel looked distinctly rattled when she finally emerged. Two ‘couples’ have been designated to have romantic dinners apart from the group tonight, but there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm when the pairs were announced at the pre-dinner drinks. I was grateful to see that Flo and Jason weren’t pairedup, but Raquel is busily coaching the selected four in the hope that they’ll actually start to up their game a little. Gus and Dom have scheduled an early morning meeting for the whole group after breakfast, probably to read them the riot act.

‘I want you to serve both of the date-night tables,’ Gus tells me as the contestants make their way to dinner. ‘I know I originally said Rosa could do one, but you’re much more photogenic than her and you speak English.’

‘Fine. I’ll let Rosa know.’

‘Thanks.’

The prospect of remaining safely behind her pass and not having to serve the guests absolutely delights Rosa, who didn’t take it particularly well when one of the contestants threw a hissy fit at lunchtime because theCalamari à la Planchahad tentacles in it. Even though everyone else adored the food and I relayed their comments in full, it’s the calamari incident that’s stuck in her mind. I’m chatting to her and trying to cheer her up when Raquel bursts in.

‘I can’t find the Prosecco,’ she complains. ‘Gus and Dom want the date-night couples to have Prosecco and I can’t see it anywhere.’

‘It’s not out there,’ I tell her calmly. ‘Wait here and I’ll get you a bottle.’

Rosa has made it very clear that the only person she will tolerate in her kitchen besides her and her assistant is me. Everyone else is to stay well clear, so I can see her twitching at Raquel’s presence, even though she’s on the other side of the pass. I hastily retrieve a bottle of Prosecco from one of the fridges and give it to Raquel, who dashes outside with it.

‘Taste this,’ Rosa instructs me, holding out a spoon with a prawn and some sauce in it. I gently take it from her and pop it in my mouth.

‘What do you think?’ she asks.

‘It’s incredible. What is it?’

‘Zarzuela de Pescado y Mariscos. It originates from Barcelona. I’m serving it to the date-night couples with fried potatoes and salad.’

Our conversation is cut short by a hiss and a crackle from my walkie-talkie. I’m not a fan of it as it keeps making me jump, but Gus insisted we had them.

‘Date-night tables are ready for their first course,’ his tinny voice says.

‘On my way,’ I tell him. Rosa starts plating up and, as soon as the food for the first table is ready, I load it onto a tray and carry it outside. At the buffet, the guests are busily loading up their plates and I’m glad to see that they are at least talking to each other now. The date-night tables are further away in secluded areas of the garden so I concentrate on my feet; tripping over with a tray of food is not going to endear me to anyone.

I haven’t been to the date-night tables in the darkness before, and I have to say they do look magical. As well as the obligatory fairy lights draped around, there are also candles in storm lanterns hanging on special brackets. The electric lighting, important for the filming, is carefully concealed and softened to prevent any harsh shadows from being cast. It reminds me a little of the pub that Jock and I went to on our last night together, and it’s all I can do to force the bittersweet memory out of my mind and concentrate on the here and now.

‘Good evening,’ I say to Marcus and Deborah, who I’m pleased to see are chatting quietly to each other and looking fairly relaxed. ‘I have your first course here. It’s a traditional Spanish fish stew, served with fried potatoes and salad.’ As I’m speaking, I lay the various plates in front of them, taking care to serve them from the left so as not to block the view of the camera that is out there in the darkness somewhere. ‘¡Buen provecho!’ I add as I carefully pick up the tray and retreat.

‘Well done,’ Gus says encouragingly when I return to the villa after serving the second table. ‘You looked completely natural and remembered the sightlines. At least someone round here is listening to me.’

Rosa is also in a good mood when I walk back into the kitchen and, for the first time since the crew arrived, everyone seems happy. Well, everyone except Raquel, who I spotted in the sitting room morosely nursing a glass of wine the size of a fishbowl. For a moment, I’m tempted to go in and check whether she’s all right, but then I remember her eagerness to delve into my private life and decide against it. I’m struggling enough with Jock popping into my mind, without her encouraging it.

15

It’s Wednesday morning and the first show went out last night. I haven’t seen it, because I was flat out serving dinner and helping to clear up when it was on, but the list of unread messages on my phone when I woke up indicate that a good number of people who know me must have watched it. In amongst the good wishes, I’m surprised to see a message from Jock.

I just saw you on Too Busy for Love. Can you confirm rumours that you’re TV’s hottest waitress now?

I grin as I type out a reply. I’m stupidly pleased to hear from him.

I don’t know about that, but it’s interesting work and I’m enjoying it. How come you have time to be watching TV?

I watch the screen for a while but the ticks stay resolutely grey. He must be working.

‘Beatrice, can I borrow you for five minutes as soon as you get some down time?’ Gus asks as I’m carrying the breakfast buffet dishes outside. His face is serious.

‘Sure. Let me just get this stuff out and then I’ll come to the control room. I’ll be with you in a second.’

My promise is slightly derailed by the fact that Flo has absent-mindedly helped herself to the soya milk rather than the regular milk, so I have to take it back into the kitchen and top it up.

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