Darcy looks over the dress again. Yep, it definitely makes a statement, leaving very little to the imagination. ‘If you don’t want to change that’s totally fine, but I want to make it clear that another girl is wearing the same dress.’

Addison gives a small nod, the tiniest flicker of doubt passing over her face.

‘And this is the kind of thing the media will be all over,’ Darcy goes on. ‘There will probably be a comparison photo of the two of you online after it all goes to air.’

Addison gulps.

‘With a who wore it better tagline. So, it’s totally up to you.’

Addison turns to stare at herself in the mirror. Her hand runs over the dress, smoothing it down. She turns side on, stands a little straighter and sucks in her stomach, her eyes examining, scrutinising. Darcy wishes she didn’t know the feeling.

‘Would you change?’

Contestants always want personal opinions, most of them fretting to producers, asking if they’re doing the right thing, needing to know if they’d make the same decision. What the contestants don’t seem to realise is that they should never trust any of the crewmembers, especially the producers, whose job it is to create drama. Darcy would never go on a show like this and isn’t really into clothes as much as other girls, so she probably would change. She doesn’t think a single outfit can have that much impact, but that’s not the answer for this situation. The more The One appears in the media, the better it will be for ratings. Darcy opts for a ‘producer’ reply and shakes her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t change either. You look great.’

Addison looks back at herself in the mirror with a satisfied smile and Darcy only feels a tiny bit bad for lying.

Bonnie feels like she’s going to throw up. She watches from the limousine as one by one the other four girls go down to meet the suitor. The others had been chatty; Bonnie assumes they were fuelled by liquid confidence from the champagne that flowed all afternoon back at the hotel while they were getting ready. Bonnie had been momentarily elated by their excitement, but as each of the girls vanishes down the garden path, so does her confidence. She has to put her head between her legs and is terrified she’s about to pass out.

Mel, one of the producers, is sitting in the back with her, a run sheet on her lap. ‘Are you okay?’

Bonnie shakes her head as she scratches furiously at her arms. She can’t do this. What had she been thinking? What a crazy and idiotic decision she’d made to avoid her feelings for Oliver.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Mel says confidently, like she’s suggesting Bonnie have a routine check-up at the dentist instead of having her face broadcast on national TV.