The Marriage Act(2)
(Ms Jones’ bottom lip trembles. She hesitates.)
‘I wish I could go back to the Jem Jones I was before I started Vlogging. And some of you will tell me there’s no reason why I can’t do that. But I don’t know how to be that woman again. Too much has happened and I don’t know who I am or what I am. Sometimes I feel so far removed from myself that I don’t even think I’m real any more.’
(Ms Jones pauses to cry. She holds her head down to hide her face, then reaches for tissues and dabs at her eyes.)
‘I’m sorry, guys, but I’m no use to anyone like this so that’s why I’m saying goodbye. Congratulations to anyone watching who has helped to make my life a living hell – you win. I give up, I surrender. I can’t make anything right any more. Thank you to those who have shown me love, and I apologize for letting you all down so badly. I have no control over anything . . . I’m better off away from both the virtual world and the real one.’
(Ms Jones offers an apologetic smile and reaches for something out of camera shot. A grey gun becomes visible in her left hand. She slowly points it to her temple, closes her eyes, pulls the trigger and temporarily falls from view, until the automatic lens finds her again. The broadcast continues for around seventeen minutes until her body is discovered.)
SAY ‘I DO’ TO A SMART MARRIAGE!
MARRIAGE AS WE KNOW IT HAS CHANGED. ARE YOU READY TO TAKE THE PLUNGE?
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1
Roxi
Roxi glared in disbelief at the YouTube video playing on her tablet. ‘How the hell has she bagged that?’ she muttered.
Walking across the white sandy beaches of one of the Maldives’ islands, an energetic young woman gesticulated with the gusto of a children’s television presenter as she described to the camera the soaring temperatures and natural beauty of the tropical paradise.
‘If your bingo wings flap any faster you’ll be airborne,’ Roxi continued as the camera panned out to focus on the luxury resort.
Autumn Taylor’s tan was rich and her skin glowing, her hair was immaculately coiffed and, despite her claims of having only just woken up, her make-up was flawless. She clenched a tube of sunscreen in one hand and, in the other, a bottle of water. Both labels faced the lens.
Roxi paused the video, picked up her phone, opened the Notes App and began to dictate. ‘Sunglasses: Prada. Bikini: Harper Beckham. Sunblock: Nivea. Mineral water: Acqua Panna. Tits: sponsor unknown.’
She glanced at the data surrounding the Vlogger’s online channel, titled Autumn’s Endless Summer. It contained forty-two videos shot around the world in Bali, India, Fiji Islands, the Seychelles, Musha Cay and Bora Bora. Her most recent clip, posted yesterday, had already garnered more than a million views. Her position as one of the world’s top ten Influencers ruffled Roxi’s feathers every time she thought about it. Which was frequently.
Autumn’s content was a far cry from the videos Roxi had been editing that morning in an overcast New Northampton. Yesterday, she had been wandering around the shop floor of a discount home and fashion outlet discussing the week’s new best buys. She’d made sure to use the key words and phrases in every Influencer’s dictionary – ‘hey guys’, ‘community’, ‘get ready with me’, ‘collab’, ‘challenge’ and ‘haul’ – and with the same enthusiasm as booking a French Airbnb and being handed the keys to the Palace of Versailles.
Her footage had been shot on a camera phone and lit with a portable LED ring light, both operated by her reluctant offspring Darcy and Josh. The end result was as far removed from Autumn’s high production values as the sun and the moon. And when Roxi had briefly dragged her daughter in front of the lens, no amount of sharp editing could disguise Darcy’s thunderous expression. She would rather be burning in the fiery flames of hell than be in Costland.
‘I don’t even get why you’re making videos,’ Darcy had moaned, her negativity buzzing in Roxi’s ear like a trapped mosquito. ‘Nobody watches your Vlogs.’
‘Let’s try a little positivity, shall we?’ Roxi had replied. ‘One hashtag seen by a PR could change everything.’
‘You’re far too old for this.’
‘Jem Jones isn’t much younger than me.’
‘She’s a dinosaur but at least she’s a dinosaur people give a damn about.’
‘I have twelve thousand combined social media followers.’
‘Is that all?’ Darcy had laughed. ‘That dog with the lazy eye and patch on its back that looks like Prince Louis has more followers than you. Vlogging isn’t going to make you famous. You’re embarrassing yourself.’