Читать книгу Nailed It! - Mel Campbell - Страница 10

Getting out of her ute at the docks at lunchtime on Sunday, Rose knew the funk she was in would pass. Probably not today, though. She felt a little foolish that she’d ever hoped something would come of her job at The Dock. So why couldn’t she shake this sense of vague disappointment?

She’d quit Old Steve’s because he was never going to let her take charge of her skills and make things from start to finish. And while the conditions were better on The Dock, Rose was still doing the same kind of piecework. Of course, she understood that this was what working on a renovation show meant. The contestants would always get to do the fun stuff – and get the credit for it. But this job was never going to lead where Rose wanted to go.

It was dawning on Rose how naive she’d been. Without even really admitting it to herself, she’d been thinking of The Dock as a stepping stone to a new kind of career. Something more challenging, more exciting, than a regular cabinetmaking gig. She’d been lured in by the same TV dream that reality shows always sold – the magic of transformation. But now she was realising what DIY really meant: that if she ever wanted to run her own business, she’d have to make it herself.

The boatshed looked suspiciously empty. ‘Where are the tradies?’ Rose asked a passing runner.

He shrugged. ‘It’s elimination day. We only keep one tradie on for emergencies.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Guess you’re it. You might see the others later at the barbecue.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ The runner hurried off, leaving Rose look­ing for someone to report to. Over by the whiteboard, Bernie was going over the day’s shot list with a couple of the camera crew, and Rose hovered on the fringes of the conversation until the producer looked up.

‘Emergency tradie, reporting for duty,’ Rose said.

‘Okay, great,’ Bernie said, already bored. ‘Wait over by your station. We’ll let you know if there’s anything that we need done.’ He turned back to the camera crew, not bothering to wait for Rose’s reply.

Always good to know where you stand in the scheme of things, Rose thought, dragging a chair back with her across the shed’s concrete floor to where a stack of lumber was piled. Was every new job going to be like this forever? Being kept in the dark and doing all the shit jobs until someone new came along and she could dump all the boring work onto them?

She checked her watch; it was barely 1 p.m. She couldn’t really complain about sitting around doing nothing. If she’d stayed at home she’d be doing basically the same thing: sitting in silence, not wanting to wake up her sleeping parents and brother. At least at home she could play on her phone; she didn’t really think anyone here would care, but it was still her first week on the job and she wanted to give the impression she was paying attention. So she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By three she could hear people gathering outside the shed, and figured it was safe to crack open a door and peer out into the afternoon sun to see what was going on. A smallish crowd had gathered on the other side of the chain-link fence that cut the dock off from the foreshore, clawing at the fence and rattling it like a horde of zombie football hooligans.

‘They’re angry today,’ one of the production staff said, seeing Rose’s expression of horror. ‘If we don’t get them some fresh meat, who knows what they’ll do.’

‘Fresh meat?’ Rose said. Surely he was joking. But no. ‘Fire up the barbecue!’ Bernie shouted.

A pair of grips walked towards the fence, carrying a hotplate; another grip trailed behind, wheeling the gas bottles to heat it up. A fourth grip had an entire fridge on a trolley. It was so stuffed with meat the door didn’t shut properly; plastic-wrapped packs of sausages and hamburgers spilled out as he dragged the fridge along behind the others. A lighting technician followed, paying out coils of extension cord from inside the shed to power the whole setup.

No sooner had they set up the barbecue by the fence – the crowd was stamping their feet and chanting now – than Thor Thorsson appeared, wearing a striped butcher’s apron over his usual seafaring gear. ‘I am here to give these sausages a Viking funeral!’ he bellowed as the crowd roared their encouragement. ‘May they find Odin’s grace in your bellies!’

Behind the barbecue Rose saw a couple of grips setting up a viewing platform. Presumably once the crowd had been lured in by the smell of fresh meat, they’d be herded onto the platform to become the audience for the sinking. Her gaze moved past them to take in the boats bobbing gently at their moorings; they all looked pretty much the same to her, though a couple of them were definitely dodgy when she’d seen them up close. If there’d been any gossip about who’d be going home today, it hadn’t reached her ears.

She knew that in later weeks there’d be themed challenges to complete – the decking challenge, or the seaworthy challenge. But as this was the first week that the boats were in the water, they were being judged on everything from style to seaworthiness to general maintenance. The boat that was at the bottom of the rankings when it came to those factors today would be the boat that was at the bottom of the harbour by tonight.

If it were up to Rose, she’d say goodbye to Beverley. A middle-aged woman with no evident sailing experience, Beverley was clearly trying her best and she had some good ideas – though maybe not the giant decorative polystyrene starfish lining her boat’s cabin walls. But she also spent half her time chasing around the little dog Rose had patted in the boatshed, which, bizarrely, was her partner on the show. Rose had to admit that Snuggles was very cute, but if Beverley’s boat was coming last, not even a cute dog would save her.

By the fence, Thor let out a wild cry. Rose turned in time to see the gates flung open and the crowd … well, actually, the crowd wandered through in an orderly fashion before lining up for what rapidly become just an average sausage sizzle. If Bernie had needed her for anything serious, he’d have said so by now, Rose reasoned, and walked out onto the dock to get a free sausage herself.

It was glorious barbecue weather: clear, and not too blustery. The crowd was a mix of young families happy to have a reason to get out of the house, and scary hardcore fans of The Dock wearing slogan T-shirts and carrying homemade banners saying things like I GET WET and THOR FLOATS MY BOAT. Rose wasn’t sure how they managed to stuff sausages into their faces while keeping those banners aloft, but the meat was disappearing from the hotplate at an alarming rate. She pushed forward hurriedly to claim one of the last hamburgers.

‘Here you go, fair maiden,’ said Thor, ‘would you like some more mustard with yon burger?’

‘No, I think you’ve already laid it on a bit thick,’ she said.

‘Well, you can just fuck off then,’ Thor said, his accent falling away.

‘No, I meant the mustard, honestly,’ Rose stammered, backing away quickly. Was nothing real in reality TV?

‘Hey, Rose!’ Startled, she turned. Standing towards the back of the queue for the barbecue was Dan, waving at her. Glad to finally see someone she could talk to, she hurried over. ‘You’re still here,’ he said. ‘I thought they’d have let you go an hour ago.’

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ she said.

‘No,’ he laughed, ‘I mean from the afternoon’s work. They only need someone here in case a panel falls off or something. Usually once it gets to three o’clock they tell you to go.’

‘Nobody tells me much of anything around here,’ Rose said. ‘And somebody here told me this sinking was a big event …’

‘Oh yeah, that,’ he said. The queue shuffled forward. ‘It really is a big deal once they get to the last few eliminations later on. The first couple are really just family days and fan events. But you know … free food!’

‘I wouldn’t get too excited,’ Rose said, looking down at her half-eaten burger. ‘I think I know where all the sawdust’s been going.’

‘Free is free,’ Dan said with admirable logic. ‘Plus I only live a few blocks away. And it’s a boat being sunk – you don’t see that every day.’

‘Only once a week if you work here,’ Rose said with a smile. It wasn’t exactly a carnival atmosphere, but the crowd was definitely getting into the swing of things – and out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple of grips wheeling out another fridge, this one with glass doors that showed it was full of cheap imported light beer.

‘Go save us a spot in the line for the beer tickets,’ Dan said urgently. ‘Even though we’re staff we still only get three tickets each, and that Golden Spray wears off fast.’

‘Golden Spray?’ Rose said, barely hiding her disgust.

‘Yeah, they make it especially for Grand Prix winners,’ Dan said.

‘But don’t they use champagne …?’ Rose said, but Dan was at the hotplate, trying to grab as many sausages as he could while Thor was distracted taking selfies with a large, excitable male fan. With a shrug she turned and walked over to the beer fridge, where a queue was already snaking away.

‘Hey guys,’ she said, ‘I work here so …’

‘Oh, you work here,’ said one of the grips. ‘That’s different – two tickets for you.’

‘Only two?’

‘One ticket!’

‘I’m leaving!’

Free drinks were meant to be one of the perks of the job. She’d all but been promised a party with her co-workers, but it was vanishing before her eyes. Standing around on the dock with a bunch of strangers was hardly Rose’s idea of a fun Sunday. She wondered if it was even worth sticking around. If she went home now, perhaps she could head down to the pub later on …

But then the man behind her in the queue slid in to stand beside her. ‘Three tickets for me, and three for the lovely young lady here.’

‘Sure thing, Mr Barker,’ said the previously sassy grip, handing over the tickets. Leary Barker gave three to Rose.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘Not a problem,’ he said. ‘Always happy to bump into an attractive young woman. And you look like a woman who’s good with her hands.’ He laughed, holding up his own hands in mock surrender.

‘Yeah, I get that a lot,’ Rose joked.

‘Leary Barker,’ he said. ‘Executive Producer, Endeavour Productions.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Rose said, her confusion showing. ‘We met on the set of Mansions in the Sky earlier this week. I’m Rose, I’ve just started working here.’

A look of panic bloomed on Leary’s face. ‘I’m not gonna get Me-Too’ed! Not again!’

Rose had definitely heard this before. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

Leary laughed nervously, keeping his hands in the air and beginning to edge away from Rose. ‘I mean, I’m all about we two … not that other thing I said.’ A look of relief came over his face. ‘Yes, I’m sure we two will get along fine, in a totally appropriate way! That’s what I said – we two!’

Rose was still puzzling over what had just happened when there was a crackling sound of feedback from the PA system. ‘Attention! Could everyone please move to the viewing platform. Take your food and drinks with you. Filming starts in ten minutes.’

The sausages and beer seemed to have channelled the spectators’ feral energy into a more manageable kind of enthusiasm. They began to head for the platform as if they were already familiar with the routine. Rose was still standing at the beer table, unsure whether she should join them, when she saw Dan waving to her from the front row.

‘They like to have us up the front so they can get our reactions when the boat sinks,’ he explained as Rose edged in beside him. ‘Sad faces make for good television.’ That wasn’t going to be a problem for Rose; this whole day had been one big sad-face.

From here, she had a view straight onto the dock, where the eight boats bobbed and swayed. Several small camera crews in headsets – a camera operator plus a sound recordist – were stationed at different spots along the pier. Rose’s gaze followed the tracks of cable, strapped down with gaffer tape, back into the shed, where she knew there was a bank of monitors. Bernie and the other producers would be directing the shoot from inside.

Thor appeared on the pier with a microphone. ‘Hallo!’ he bellowed. The crowd cheered, and the super-fans waved their banners enthusiastically.

‘Are you ready to Dock?’ Thor shouted. Rose groaned inwardly, but the crowd loved it, laughing and clapping.

‘I said – are you ready to Dock?!’ The crowd roared in reply.

Some of the super-fans started a familiar-sounding chant, stomping their feet and clapping. Stamp-stamp CLAP! Stamp-stamp CLAP! The rest of the spectators quickly caught on, stamping, clapping and joining in the song: ‘We will, we will Dock you!’

Thor held up a hand for silence. ‘I am Thor Thorsson, son of the sea and host of The Dock!’ he said. ‘Today, eight boats become seven, as we witness this season’s first sinking. One team’s hopes will be dashed on the rocks beneath our feet, as the other contestants sail on towards victory! But first, let us meet our contestants!’

Pair by pair, Thor invited each team to stand beside him on the pier. Rose had thought they looked polished on ordinary shooting days, but today they practically sparkled. Their hair was even more glossy, voluminous and carefully tousled than usual. The female contestants’ faces were masks of heavy make-up, and both the men and women were dusted with bronzer and powder.

All the contestants were wearing nautically themed outfits. One couple were dressed like old-timey sailors, in white bell-bottoms, blue neckerchiefs, and dixie-cup hats worn at a jaunty angle. Another were wearing Hawaiian shirts, sunglasses and peaked captain’s hats. There were lots of striped shirts, epaulettes and gold braid. One team was even rigged out like Napoleon in coats, breeches, boots and cocked hats. Guess they’re saving the pirate gear for later in the season, Rose thought.

Thor announced each team’s names to much applause, then asked them a few questions – were they nervous? Were they ready? Were they happy with the progress on their boat? What was best in life?

‘To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of the women!’ shouted a few super-fans before the contestant even had his mouth open.

After each team had answered the questions, they went to stand by their boat, waving to the crowd as they left. As Thor turned back to the audience, a diminutive production assistant in a lanyard and headset came to stand beside him.

‘This is … Katie!’ Thor bellowed, as if introducing a Norse goddess. Katie gave a small, polite smile. ‘She will take you through the process of today’s filming.’

‘Hi guys,’ Katie said, ‘Before we begin, a few quick house rules. If you could be quiet while we’re filming over by the boats, that would be great. Whenever I go like this’ – she drew an emphatic horizontal line in the air with both hands – ‘I need you to stop making a sound. But when I go like this’ – she mimed clapping – ‘you guys give us your biggest round of applause! Let’s have a practice go!’

With exaggerated movements, Katie made the clapping signal, and obligingly the crowd began to applaud. ‘Louder!’ she yelled, making an open-palmed ‘up’ motion with her hands, and the volume of the applause escalated. She made the ‘cut’ signal, and the applause stopped.

‘Great job!’ Katie said. ‘And when I go like this’ – she lifted one hand and shook her fist back and forth – ‘I need you guys to cheer!’

‘Woo!’ said one over-enthusiastic spectator.

‘Sometimes we might have to go back and film a moment again, so you might have to cheer or clap a couple of times in a row,’ Katie continued. ‘But I need you to give each cheer just as much energy – every time’s gotta be like the first time. Can you do that?’ She raised a fist.

‘Wooooo!’ replied all the spectators … except Rose, who stifled a yawn.

‘And here’s the most important part,’ Katie was saying. ‘After the judges have conferred and given their result, Thor will announce this week’s rankings. He’ll read them from first place to last place, and you know what happens when he gets to the final team. He’ll read out their names, and then you know what comes next …’

The super-fans led the chant. ‘That boat – won’t float!’

‘Again!’ Katie shouted.

‘THAT BOAT – WON’T FLOAT!’

‘Excellent! You’re the best audience yet,’ said Katie. She put a hand to her earpiece – something was about to happen.

Behind Rose, someone yelled, ‘Here come the judges!’ Katie frowned and put a finger to her lips. Rose turned to peer through the fence at the foreshore. There didn’t seem to be any cars arriving. Would they make the judges walk in? Rose remembered that in the episode she’d watched, Thor had been filmed strolling along a pier.

She cast her gaze around the foreshore. A couple of junkies were squabbling over a shoe. There was an old man very slowly pushing a shopping cart. Something was moving inside. Metres away, a teenager in a hoodie was sucking on a bong made from an energy-drink bottle and a length of garden hose. This didn’t exactly look like an elite judging panel, but there was no one else in sight.

Excitement was mounting among the crowd, but Rose still couldn’t figure out where the judges were. She looked along the dock – nobody new here, either – then realised all the camera crews were pointing out to sea. A speedboat was swooping dramatically towards the dock, gull-wings of spray fountaining out from either side as it sliced through the sparkling water. It was all very impressive … at least to the point where it became clear that whoever was steering had misjudged their high-speed approach, and had to cut the motor before they ran aground.

‘Go back to point two!’ shouted one of the crew, pointing to a distant buoy. The boat made gurgling fart noises as it reversed with embarrassing slowness. The crowd laughed, and someone made a sad trombone noise. After what felt like ages, the boat made it back to the point, then painstakingly turned. The engine roared into life and the boat swept back towards the dock. This time, the helmsman had judged the approach perfectly, and the speedboat slid stylishly into its mooring by the pier.

The crowd was looking at Katie for guidance on what to do. She had her head down, listening carefully to something in her earpiece. Then she snapped her head up, looked at the crowd and made the applause signal. The spectators burst into applause. As if conducting an orchestra, Katie gestured for louder applause, and the crowd obliged.

Rose was dreading having to stand there while the judges went into every boat and checked every corner of it. Would they even be finished before dark? But they must have done the actual judging earlier in the day, while Rose had been idling in the warehouse.

Thor and the judges went to stand in front of one contestant couple. ‘How do you feel about your chances?’ Thor asked.

‘We’re pretty nervous, Thor. The barnacle challenge took a lot out of us this week. But we did the best we could.’

Thor nodded, like a priest at confession. ‘Now let’s hear from the judges.’

They all visibly relaxed, and Katie got the crowd’s attention. ‘The monitors are currently showing a pre-recorded clip of the judges on the boat, but when we come back from the clip I need you guys to cheer.’

Over the next hour, the same pattern repeated seven more times. By the end, Rose was shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Everything was happening on the screens, but she was standing too close to the edge of the pier to see the monitors clearly. As she’d suspected, Beverley seemed to be trailing behind. Snuggles was definitely a crowd-pleaser, but the judges were having none of it. During Beverley’s judging segment the crowd had let out a few ominous ‘ooooh’s.

Now it was time to film what would be the climax of the episode: the announcement of the rankings. As Thor read out each pair’s names, cameras clustered around the contestants to capture their reactions of triumph and relief. Katie was making huge, exaggerated clapping signals and shaking her fist as if grievously wronged by an uncaring world, and the audience obligingly cheered again and again.

‘And in seventh place …’ Thor said, drawing out the moment to an excruciating length, ‘… are Jo and Luke!’ The couple hugged each other in ecstasy. ‘Which means that Beverley and Snuggles are in last place.’ He turned to the viewing platform, mugging outrageously. ‘And what does that mean?’

The audience needed no more prompting. ‘THAT BOAT – WON’T FLOAT!’ they screamed in one voice.

Beverley’s boat immediately began to sink. How was it happening so quickly? Rose figured there must be a remotely operated valve in the hull. Beverley turned to her boat, rivulets of tears forming pale channels in the bronze of her make-up. She was dressed as a mermaid, wearing a long blonde wig, a beige body stocking with two clamshells sewn to its chest, and a green sequined fishtail encasing her legs. Now, she began to hop pathetically towards the edge of the dock, clutching her hair and wailing. She reminded Rose of a child in a sack race.

Even for this show, Beverley’s antics seemed over the top. Maybe the contestants had been coached to act like this? But then Rose heard what Beverley was wailing.

‘Snuggles! Where’s Snuggles? Oh my god, he’s still on the boat!’

Rose looked around. Was this meant to be part of the show? Katie was talking frantically into her headset; Thor and the judges were frozen like the fjords of Norway. They weren’t acting like it was planned. The crowd was becoming agitated; a muttering spread over the viewing platform and a few people took out their phones and started filming, but nobody wanted to disrupt the recording.

Beverley was bouncing up and down at the edge of the pier in her absurd fishtail. ‘Help! Help! Somebody! Snuggles can’t swim! You can’t let him drown!’

Rose looked at Dan, who shrugged. ‘Ah, fuck this,’ she said. Ignoring Katie’s panicked hand-waving, Rose ran to Beverley’s side and looked down at the sinking boat. The deck was now fully submerged and water was pouring into the cabin. She couldn’t see Snuggles swimming anywhere; he must be trapped inside the cabin. Another couple of minutes and it would be completely underwater.

She kicked off her work boots. Her tool belt fell to the pier with a thunk. With a splash, Rose dived into the water beside the boat.

She came up for air and trod water for a second to get her bearings. She saw the cabin door was open, and swam through it. Inside, she struggled to see through a soup of water, oil, broken fittings and other flotsam. But there was a layer of trapped air between the water and the ceiling, and Rose surfaced, gasping for breath. She could see Snuggles, the little dog, scrabbling against the opposite corner of the cabin as if he were trying to dig his way out.

At the speed this boat was sinking, they had less than a minute. Rose swam over to the dog, who growled and flailed his front paws when she tried to grab him. His hind end was stuffed into a mermaid tail – a miniature version of Beverley’s. No wonder the poor thing couldn’t get out.

Rose knew she wouldn’t be able to swim out with this frightened fluffball writhing in her arms. She looked around, and from the floating debris she snatched up a decorative polystyrene starfish and a length of rope. Quickly she lashed the dog to the starfish, grabbed one of the starfish’s arms, and dived underwater once more, pulling the makeshift raft with her. She swam towards the door, pushed the starfish out ahead of her, and saw it rapidly rise towards the surface. With her last ounce of strength, she kicked her way up to follow it.

She broke the surface and gasped for breath. Floating next to her was the starfish, with a bedraggled Snuggles still tied to it, yipping angrily. That was the first thing Rose heard; the second was the cheers of the crowd, like the rush of a mighty ocean.