Page 86 of Such a Good Couple
‘I don’t want to do this.’ She turned to the director. ‘I want out. Of this whole thing.’
‘Admirable, but no. You signed a contract,’ the director said. ‘Keep rolling, gang,’ he commanded.
‘Please,’ Clara whimpered. ‘What if I do it instead? I can tie the rope around my boobs?’
‘Clara?’ Ollie interrupted her. ‘I trust you.’ And before she could say anything else, he let go of the block. The rope that lay coiled at his feet shot into the water.
‘Fuck!’ one of the other guys shouted. The block hit the bottom, the muffled ‘thunk’ audible despite the depth of the pool.
Clara burst into tears. On the ground, all the additional rope still lay and Ollie was unharmed. She put her arms around him and breathed him in. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him where his hair curled at his neck just under his ear. She hadn’t touched him like that since the cabin of the boat in Provincetown.
It took a moment to register that his arms remained resolutely at his sides. He wasn’t reciprocating. She stepped back and something inside her plummeted. Hope? Any shred of optimism? Whatever it was, it dropped as fast as the cinder block had and she felt desolate.
No one spoke and then the director yelled, ‘Excellent work, guys. That was gold. Full of heart. These are the moments we directors wait our whole careers for.’
Clara looked at Ollie but all the easiness of their earlier teasing had disappeared and his face was now shuttered.
She took a breath and said simply, ‘I’m sorry, Ollie.’ She tried to pour everything that had happened in the last three months into those three little words and then she walked away.
When she got back to the cast villa, all the children were asleep. She slipped past the night-time babysitters and into her room, where she visited each of her boys curled in their beds to place a whisper of a kiss on their cheeks. Then, in the dark, she pulled off her damp bikini – her dress still lay crumpled at the edge of the pool in the other villa. She felt around in the pitch black to find knickers and then pulled a ragged T-shirt of Ollie’s from the laundry basket. She needed the comfort of his smell.
She was lying in her bunk when she heard panicked shouts pierce the night outside. Then in mere minutes sirens were approaching. Oh God. The shriek of the ambulance hit a feverpitch and the room filled with flashing blue and red lights as it charged past and sped through the compound.
Someone was hurt, and that spelled either the end ofDivorce Islandforever or the instant renewal of the series for another season.Yikes!Clara remained in her bed. No way was she going to investigate. She couldn’t face whatever reality was unfolding over at Casa Amore No More. Ollie would be back soon, he’d tell her.
Only a couple of minutes passed before the ambulance was screeching back out to the main road, and shortly after she could hear a growing hubbub of voices as cast members returned through the hibiscus-scented night.
She heard them come into the living area of the villa. She couldn’t make out words exactly but she detected an air of disbelief in the hushed conversations.
Ollie slipped into the room. ‘Clara?’ he whispered. ‘You awake?’
‘Yeah.’
She heard him scuffle around in the dark, undressing. Then the creak of the bed beneath hers as he lay down.
‘You will not guess who didn’t leave enough rope!’ He sounded amused, maybe even a bit impressed. ‘Mary! She finally stood up to that prick Derek!’
‘Cool,’ Clara replied quietly. She’d no appetite for the gory details. She was too preoccupied.
‘Ollie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I meant what I said back there. I am so sorry. I’ve been a complete fuck-up.’
‘You have,’ he agreed.
She waited for him to say more but all she could hear was the sound of his breathing.
‘Are you nervous about tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He sounded tired. Was he tired of her? Of the day? Of the whole sorry situation? ‘I know what I’m going to say on the altar.’
‘Right.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Ollie?’
‘I’m going to sleep now,’ he said, and the bed groaned a little as he turned onto his side.
‘Okay,’ she whispered, wiping her face with the sheet. It seemed best not to press him. Maybe it’d be better to try and talk to him in the morning before the stupid ceremony. She had to make him see that they were worth fighting for, see that they could get home and make changes somehow. Spend more time together. Or get space from each other, whichever they needed. Surely he had noticed their old dynamic returning.
