Darcy’s desk is covered with applicant profiles, Post-its and highlighters. They have to dwindle the one hundred girls who auditioned for The One down to the final twenty-two contestants. Darcy needs to present her choices and reasons for them in a production meeting scheduled for later today.

‘Have you compiled the list yet?’ Alice’s voice cuts sharply through the office as her heels clang against the concrete floor.

Darcy immediately straightens in her chair. ‘Almost.’ Her voice catches in her throat. ‘We’re still finalising the last few—’

‘I don’t want to hear the details. Just get it done.’ And just like that she’s gone.

‘She’s terrifying,’ Mel, the new girl, whispers.

Darcy nods. ‘Yeah, that doesn’t ease up either.’ Earlier in the week Darcy had approached Alice in hopes of a promotion. ‘This is my fourth season doing the same role,’ she’d begun. ‘I was hoping there might be a chance of moving up the ladder? I know I’m ready for some new challenges.’

‘Is this about money?’ Alice had said, her permanent frown harsher than usual. ‘Because no pay rises have been approved for this season. They simply don’t fit into the budget.’

Darcy had wanted to say that she felt as though her career was stuck in some kind of stalemate. She was after progression, new responsibilities, even a fancier title. But instead she’d let Alice talk over her.

‘The new girl starts this week. I’ll need you to show her what to do. I can’t afford to lose you from the field team at the moment.’

Darcy’s heart had sunk. The sleepless nights rehearsing the conversation had all been a waste.

‘How about we re-evaluate things at the end of the season?’

It was probably the nicest thing Alice had ever said to her, yet Darcy now wonders whether it’s merely a carrot she will dangle in front of her over the next couple of months before tossing it in the bin.

Darcy shakes her head and turns her attention back to Mel. ‘All right, let’s run through the list again.’ She begins to lay the photographs of the girls they’ve chosen so far out on the desk. ‘We’ve still got four positions up for grabs.’ She splits the pile of leftover photographs and hands them to Mel to look through.

‘Have we got enough legitimate contestants?’ Mel asks as she starts thumbing through her pile.

‘We call them wifeys,’ Darcy says absentmindedly, pausing at a photo of a fiery redhead. She needs to help Mel get up to speed with the lingo. Alice will crucify her if she doesn’t talk the talk. ‘And no, possibly not.’

‘What about her?’ Mel pulls a photograph from her pile. ‘I reviewed her interview. She seems likeable.’