Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ten days later
‘And the fifth member of the tribe to be voted off the island,’ Pip said, pausing as he looked back and forward between Caroline and Debbi, maximizing the suspense as much as possible as the two women held hands in solidarity, the camera zooming in for a close-up of their tense faces, ‘is . . . Caroline!’
It was no more than Caroline had been expecting. She was frankly lucky, with her terrible reputation and lack of fan following, not to have been voted off first. Only the miracle of her chemistry with Santino had saved her from that fate, she was sure, and she gained considerable points by frankly admitting that in the exit interview with Pip and Dan. Everything they threw at her she acknowledged, taking the potential sting out of each question.
Yes, she said, she was very grateful to have been voted off fifth, not first. No, she hadn’t expected to last this long, not at all! Yes, she couldn’t believe how well she and Santino had clicked. Yes, she agreed with the messageboard commenters that he was completely out of her league. No, she had no expectation that Frank would be waiting for her when she left the island. No, she couldn’t blame him at all for that. Unusually, the interview was much less about the details of life on the island and more about the love triangle between her, Frank and Santino.
This worked perfectly for Caroline. It was the ideal platform to state her case: before nine million viewers, she could explain that she had not started dating Frank before Lexy snogged Deacon and then left for Switzerland, that she had gone to Sandbanks to help take care of the kids and then had got swept away by spending time with him, but that she now realized it had been a bad decision to date a married man, even a separated one, and that she truly regretted coming between a husband and a wife.
By the time she stepped onto the boat that would take her off the island, Caroline thought she had done very well indeed. Dan and Pip had been so charmed by her willingness to acknowledge her failings that they had even let her mention that she had a book coming out soon: they usually cut off or mocked contestants who tried to promote their projects too openly.
The mainland was drawing close. Standing in the bow of the boat, Caroline could see the assembled press waiting for her at the dock. Of course, Frank was not the ‘friend or family member’ standing on the red-carpeted jetty. She had never expected him to come to Australia. It would have been too public a declaration of their relationship; he wasn’t even formally separated from Lexy.
So Caroline had nominated her older sister Louise instead. Crammed into a too-small house with a husband and three kids, money chronically tight, Louise had naturally jumped at the chance of a child-free, all-expenses-paid holiday in Australia. There she was on the jetty, waving cheerfully, sporting a very British lobster-pink sunburn and wearing an eye-wateringly bright Matthew Williamson for Debenhams kaftan whose lurid greens and oranges would have been better suited to a woman with much darker skin.
‘Oh my God, Caz, look how thin you are!’ she exclaimed as Caroline stepped onto the red carpet.
Louise could not have said anything that would have pleased Caroline more. She could only be called thin by comparison to the weight she had been for most of her adult life; Debbi, for instance, who had started the show at a slim size ten, was now positively skinny after the scant rations they were given, her fake breasts looking like tennis balls bolted onto her ribcage. But this was certainly the thinnest Caroline had ever been in her life, and she was hellbent on not putting on a pound. She couldn’t help being aware that beside her plump sister, she looked even slimmer by contrast.
‘Don’t let me eat anything but steak and salad without dressing while we’re here, okay?’ she whispered in her sister’s ear as they hugged, too quietly for the boom mikes to pick up.
‘But it’s all free!’ Louise said, wide-eyed. ‘Booze too! It’s like fucking paradise here, Caz!’
The journalists were yelling questions about Santino, Frank and Jamie-Lee, the breakout star of this season. Caroline kept smiling as she walked back to the hotel arm in arm with her sister, answering the questions that related to the show while ignoring anything to do with Frank, no matter how many times they shouted his name.
The show lasted for six more days, during which time Caroline managed an entirely carb-free diet. Salad without dressing, grilled protein, an occasional vodka with diet tonic: the fantastic seafood in Australia, the gloriously warm weather, plus the demands of wearing a bikini by the hotel pool, made this diet regime much easier than it was back home. She almost – nearly – just about – if she stood with her legs in a strange contorted way – had the highly coveted thigh gap, and she was determined not to lose that.
Day by day, more contestants trickled back from the island. It became increasingly clear that the top three was going to consist of Joe, Jamie-Lee and Santino, the most attractive and popular members of this year’s cast.
Santino’s three sons flew in, accompanied by his mother and sister-in-law. The two Italian women, as slim and tanned and elegant as Louise was large, brash and sunburnt, were polite to Caroline when they met in the hotel; this happened fairly often, as there was really nowhere else to go but the sprawling grounds of the resort. They did not, however, make any effort to get to know her, and despite Louise eagerly encouraging her to go over and talk to them as they sat by the pool or sipped drinks in the bar, all Caroline’s instincts told her not to force an acquaintance on them when they weren’t seeking it out.
After all, she rationalized, they were doubtless waiting until Santino returned from the island to see how he greeted Caroline – with an affectionate hug that would relegate her to the friend zone, or, as she naturally hoped, a passionate embrace that made the strength of his feelings for her very clear. Happy as she was that he was so popular that the British public kept voting to keep him on the island, the longer she waited the harder it became to see him onscreen, laughing and joking with Joe and Jamie-Lee as easily as if he didn’t miss her in the slightest.
She filled her time with gym workouts and aquarobics classes, and with proofing the manuscript of Bad Girl, which her editor had FedExed to Australia. Re-reading what she had written, all the ways in which she had satirized and parodied Lexy, Caroline could only be glad that things were broken off with Frank, who had not been in touch. She had not realized quite how much fun she had made of her erstwhile employer; there was no question that Frank would be furious at the picture she had painted of the mother of his children.
The day of the finals dawned. Caroline spent the morning first at the gym, then in the hotel beauty salon. The cannier of the women on the show had booked well in advance, knowing that appointments would be in very high demand. As Caroline and Debbi sat side by side in the pedicure massage chairs, watching their feet be buffed to perfection, Debbi babbled non-stop about how excited Caroline must be to see Santino and how romantic it would be to throw herself into his arms.
Having been there right from the start of Santino and Caroline’s island romance, Debbi was hugely invested in its success, and her encouragement was a massive boost to Caroline. By the time she was primped and preened, highlights newly done, false lashes discreetly applied, nails perfect, her weight loss on the island almost completely maintained, Caroline was almost breathless with anticipation, and absolutely sure, with Debbi’s encouragement, that the reunion would be magical.
The eliminated contestants, plus friends and family, gathered in the hotel ballroom to watch the final show. Joe was voted out first, as had been expected. Jamie-Lee and Santino were the bookies’ favourites, with very little to choose between them. While Joe’s parents and brother were down at the jetty greeting him, the final vote was announced: Jamie-Lee was the Queen of the Island.
To everyone’s amusement, Santino’s boys bellowed their disappointment: this was captured by the camera crew, who then panned to Caroline, sitting on the other side of the ballroom, not wanting to seem as if she were trying to ingratiate herself with Santino’s children before she was an official girlfriend. Having been thoroughly dragged through the mud by newspaper columnists for her closeness to Laylah and London, she was not going to make the same mistake again.
As soon as the winner was announced everyone poured out of the ballroom, heading for the dock. Caroline, flanked by Debbi and Louise, felt her heart beat savagely in her chest as she saw the boat carrying Santino draw away from the island, moving ever closer across the narrow strait of water. It was like a scene at the end of a film, the hero returning from a quest: Santino was standing in the bow, balancing with effortless ease, waving with both his arms at his three boys, his mother- and sister-in-law, as if he were semaphoring an urgent message. He was lean as whipcord by now, barely an ounce of fat on his body, his skin tanned so dark that his resemblance to a Native American was even more pronounced.
‘Papa! Papa!’ the boys were screaming happily, and as the boat reached the jetty, the tears pouring down Santino’s face were proof of his joy at being reunited with his sons. He didn’t wait for the boat to be tied up to the mooring. As soon as it bumped against the jetty, he jumped straight onto the red carpet and ran to his boys, dropping to his knees so that he could hug all three of them at once. Many of the observers started sobbing too, the drama so heightened that Santino might have been returning from the wars rather than a reality show on an island just across the bay.
Floods of Italian poured out as the family babbled away to each other. Finally, Santino wiped his face, did the same, with great tenderness, for each of his sons, kissed his mother- and sister-in-law, and then swept the smallest boy up into the crook of one arm. Turning to walk back to the hotel, his free hand was clasped by both of the older boys. It was the perfect picture of fatherly love.
And now, of course, every head swivelled to Caroline, because they had all seen the father entwined with Caroline for days on end. The cameras focused on her face as she swallowed hard, looking into Santino’s coal-black eyes as he passed her. He nodded as their eyes met, a brief greeting, and then looked straight back at the little boy whose legs were wrapped around his waist, smiling at something his son had said.
That was it. A nod was all she got. He hadn’t mouthed, ‘See you later,’ or even given her a smile or a wink, and now she was watching him walk away from her. Caroline was unable to move, sweat icy in the small of her back. It was as if, if she stayed completely still, if she didn’t even breathe, she could rewind time somehow. Santino would come back, kiss her, draw her into the bosom of his family . . .
‘He’s with his kids,’ Debbi said, doing her best to sound breezy and unworried. ‘He’s got to be with them for a bit.’
‘Yeah, he’ll call you later, once he’s settled in,’ Louise chimed in, making a similar effort to reassure her sister, but her high-pitched tone betrayed her nerves. ‘No worries. Bound to happen!’
Caroline knew everyone was still looking at her, whispers of speculation running around the group, catching fast as wildfire. She mustn’t look defeated or disappointed; it was very likely, after all, that Debbi and Louise were absolutely right.
‘Yeah, bound to happen,’ she echoed, managing a smile.
Caroline knew she had to wait on the dock until the boat brought Jamie-Lee over, looking superbly regal in the golden crown and sceptre given to the King or Queen of the Island, as the cameras were waiting avidly to pick up on any hint Caroline gave of disappointment or heartbreak. Instead, she had to look both poised and delighted for Jamie-Lee’s triumph.
Trumpets played, fireworks burst over the island: escorted off the boat by Pip and Dan, Jamie-Lee walked down the red carpet waving and smiling like a cross between a monarch and a Miss World winner. All attention was on her, mercifully, or almost all; Caroline knew perfectly well that even as they applauded Jamie-Lee, people were still sneaking looks at her, whispering about how odd it was that Santino hadn’t even said hello to her after all of their kissing and canoodling.
She kept that smile on her face as she too clapped and cheered the Queen of the Island. No one watching would be able to say that she looked devastated by Santino having practically ignored her. The viewers might even, hopefully, think that he and she had discussed this before she left the island, agreed that he would initially give all his attention to the children with whom he was being reunited after nearly a month. If only that were the case! But she could tell herself, as she smiled and smiled till her jaw started to hurt, that he would assume she knew this, that he would be ringing her room later, once the joyful father/son reunion was complete, just as Louise had said . . .
So as soon as Jamie-Lee had led the triumphal procession back to the hotel and started a round of victory interviews, Caroline shot back to the room she and Louise shared and sat down by the phone, willing it to ring. She wouldn’t leave until the last moment, when it was time to attend the celebration party that evening. In her fantasies over the last few days, she had entered the party on Santino’s arm, his acknowledged companion, her smile stretching almost from ear to ear.
When she heard a knock on the door, she was sure it was him, come to collect her. Jumping to her feet, Caroline practically ran down the hallway – the hotel room was as big as a barn; space was definitely not at a premium in this part of Australia – only to see a production runner standing there, tasked with bringing her down to the party. Her heart sank; a huge lump formed in her throat. And she knew, too, that the runner was there to make sure she didn’t duck out; everyone was waiting to see if Santino did more than nod at her this time.
Caroline’s only consolation was that, because the clothes she had brought with her were now too loose, she had borrowed a sexy, clinging dress from Debbi that showed off her slim figure and made her breasts look spectacular. She held her head high, laughing and joking with Veronica and Debbi, and when Santino came in she was careful not to move in his direction, even though her every nerve was jangling as she waited for him to come over.
He did, of course. He made his way around the room, greeting everyone; he hugged and kissed her, Veronica and Debbi with the same enthusiasm, keeping up a steady stream of talk to cover any awkward silences; how tired he had been by the end, how great it had been to have a proper bath, how much he had missed his boys, how the one glass of wine he had drunk so far was going to his head. Then Jamie-Lee was triumphantly carried in on the huge shell, borne by topless young men dressed in loincloths, the way every winner of Celebrity Island Survivor entered the celebration party, and all the attention was upon her. Santino was summoned to play the runner-up’s role, helping Jamie-Lee out of the shell, escorting her to her throne, placing the crown on her head and giving her the papier-mâché orb and sceptre.
Caroline stood stock still as the pantomime was enacted in the centre of the ballroom. She barely knew how to process the shock. After all their kisses and endearments and passionate embraces, Santino had treated her like any another contestant. As if she hadn’t felt his hard cock pressing against her, whispered with him about what they would do together when there were no cameras around; as if he hadn’t been practically glued to her side for the fortnight they’d been on the island together!
She knew better, however, than to confront him once the photos were over. What if he rebuffed her in public? That would be manna from heaven for the media. Already, she knew that Santino’s rejection of her would be a major headline tomorrow, a twist that no one had seen coming.
Or had they? she suddenly wondered. While Santino was on the island without her, had someone – Jamie-Lee, most likely – told him stories about Caroline, chosen the word ‘homewrecker’ to turn him against her? And if that had happened, was it possible that the editors had deliberately chosen not to use that footage, so that Santino’s treatment of her would be entirely unexpected, a spectacularly dramatic shock to Caroline and the viewers?
On the few occasions their eyes met, Jamie-Lee seemed, Caroline thought, to be smirking at her. Was Jamie-Lee relishing Caroline’s humiliation because she had caused it herself? This was, for Caroline, a desperately needed ray of hope. If Santino had been misinformed – okay, maybe not precisely misinformed, but if he had been given the facts in the worst possible light – then surely there was a chance for her to put her side of the story?
So, when Caroline saw him leave the party without another word to her, she waited ten minutes, told Debbi and Louise that she was going to the toilet, and made her way, in a very roundabout fashion, to a set of lifts on the far side of the hotel. Hopefully from here she could reach the penthouse floor without anyone spotting her and reporting gleefully that she was chasing after him. It was common knowledge that Santino was staying in the penthouse suite so that his entire extended family could be accommodated all together.
As Caroline rang the bell, she was feeling calm for the first time that day. She had managed to convince herself that once she was alone with Santino, she would be able to turn things around; the powerful physical attraction between them would spark once more. As long as it wasn’t his mother or sister-in-law who answered the door, and promptly slammed it in Caroline’s face because she too had heard about her reputation . . . oh God, Caroline was getting hysterical, this wasn’t an episode of an early evening soap opera . . .
The door swung open, and to her immeasurable relief, it was Santino standing there. His strongly defined black brows drew together over that familiar beaky nose, even more prominent now because of the weight loss. Caroline felt faint, her legs buckling, at the sight of him, so handsome, so close to her.
‘Carolina,’ he said, looking at her very seriously. He stood back, holding the door open. ‘Yes, I thought you would come.’ And then he added those words that never fail to strike dread into the heart of anyone who hears them:
‘We need to have a talk.’