than authenticity. In the past I’ve advocated this. Now I’m regretting it.
Katie gets Josh to talk about how he proposed to me. The audience lap up the cream rose, dimmed lights, huge diamonds. He omits to mention the fact that the weeping of the freshly ditched Jane was still echoing around the flat. Nor does he mention his New Year’s resolution or the tax breaks.
Fair enough. I wouldn’t either if I were him.
Josh talks about all the preparations, cost and care for our ‘big, traditional wedding’. He doesn’t say that my mum has done all the work. They cut to lots of footage of Josh talking to caterers, florists and the guys who erect the marquee. I can only assume this footage was filmed especially because, to my certain knowledge, Josh has not visited any of these people to actually plan for the wedding. My mother confirms this when she comments, ‘But that’s not the florist we are using.’ She looks at me and corrects herself, ‘Were using. That’s not the florist we were using. Why do you think Josh is talking to them?’
She’s far too innocent for me to be able to explain.
‘Josh, it’s clear to see that Jocasta is a bit of a flirt.’
The words cut. A neat incision.
‘But why did you contact the studio? Is there a particular ex that you feel might threaten your relationship?’ Katie Hunt tilts her head to one side and smiles sympathetically. I’ve seen her practise that in the mirror in the loos.
‘There’s this one guy, Darren Smith.’
The incision rips to a wider gash.
They play a film of the TV6 party. Even in this stupefied state I have to credit the editor. It’s a fine piece of work. Because the cameras were concealed and I obviously haven’t signed a release form allowing TV6 to film me, they have had to use a black stripe to obscure my eyes. But since they have just shown numerous stills of me, the strip doesn’t conceal my identity. I just look sinister, a bit like a masked madame at a brothel. The film starts with a shot of me slipping my engagement ring into my pocket. This is repeated four times and then it shows me greeting (a masked) Darren. Cut to me beaming like a Cheshire cat. It shows Darren being attentive towards me, bringing me caviar and champagne. They speed that bit up and, because of my animated hand gestures and his vigilance, it looks as though I am bossing and directing him on an endless stream of jobs. Fetch this, bring that, go there and come here. Cut to Darren and me dancing together. We were actually dancing to an innocuous cover version of ‘Let’s Twist Again’ but TV6 have dubbed in the husky, throbbing voice of Rod Stewart singing ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’. The camera angles are such that I look as though I’m gyrating my groin almost in Darren’s face. Cut to me trying to get through the crowd of women hanging round Darren. Again this is speeded up, and by shaking the camera, the effect achieved is one of violence. It looks as though I’m shoving away the competition. There’s a bit where we were chatting exuberantly, my hair cloaking our faces. It looks as though we were snogging, at it like hammer and tongs. We had openly left the party together. But by editing two different bits of footage, one of Darren going to the loo and another of me going out of the room for a moment to take a call on my mobile, it looks as though we deliberately left separately and then met furtively outside the building. If this were a film about anyone other than Darren and me, I’d be thrilled.
Darren.
I watch Darren and me walk along the river. I was right – we did start holding hands by the Mall. I see us get in a cab and arrive at a hotel. The masks hide the look of longing and apprehension in Darren’s eyes and blank out the moment where the caution rinsed from mine.
It all makes sense now. That’s why we were able to get a cab so easily – a plant. The cabby knew which hotel to take us to. The one with hidden cameras in the lobby, bar and corridors. That’s why breakfast arrived even though we hadn’t ordered it. TV6 needed an affidavit from the bellboy that we were in bed together. That’s why the manager couldn’t let us