Melt. Lisa Walker

out and never darken my doorstep again, you man-stealing tart. But these seem misplaced in the face of her indignation.

      I jump as Cougar bangs a crutch on the ground. ‘I’m not happy about you impersonating me in Antarctica.’

      Oh that. ‘I’m not happy about it either. Maxine didn’t want to lose the spot to Channel—’

      ‘I know all that.’ Cougar puts her hand up. Her eyes move down my body then come up to meet mine. It is clear I have been appraised and found wanting. ‘It’s most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard and it’s not going to work.’

      Right up until she says this, I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now my hackles rise. Alexis from Dynasty wouldn’t stand for this from a woman who’d stolen her man. The words leap out before I can stop them. ‘Well, I don’t care what you think. I’m going to do it.’ I’m just putting on a show. I have no intention of going to Antarctica.

      Cougar looks faintly amused. ‘They’ll find you out in the first day and send you home. I’m one of the best known faces in Australia. You’ll never carry it off.’

      ‘Ha, that’s what you think.’ I’m not going to roll over and let her walk all over me. ‘Everyone is replaceable.’

      ‘The media will get onto it and you’re going to look preposterous. It’s almost certainly illegal. I’ve had the clearance, not you.’ Her eyes linger on my face. She touches her mouth with a forefinger. ‘You’ve got chocolate …’

      Damn. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

      ‘I doubt you’d have passed the medical. And you’ll be travelling overseas with a false identity. You’ll end up in jail.’

      I hadn’t thought of that. ‘You can go to the media yourself. That’ll put an end to it.’

      ‘Don’t you think I would if I could? My contract has a clause for this sort of thing. It’s completely sewn up – commercial-in-­confidence. You’re the one who needs to stop it. You’re never going to be able to carry it off.’

      Cougar sounds so sure and she’s probably right. But I waggle my head in a careless way. ‘We’ll see.’

      ‘It’s a joke. You’ – her lip curls – ‘impersonating me.’ She focuses on my mouth again.

      I resist the urge to wipe it. She’s trying to psyche me out.

      ‘Sorry about Adrian by the way.’ She doesn’t sound sorry at all. ‘He’s quite the high-performer in bed, isn’t he?’

      I’m gobsmacked.

      ‘And in other places.’

      Anger stirs at last. She emits a low, dangerous growl. I can’t believe this woman. She’s doing a better job of sounding like Alexis than I am and she isn’t even trying. Is that what Adrian likes? Has he been longing for a prima donna? Anger shows her teeth, she snarls and roars and I have an epiphany. If that’s what Adrian wants …

      I will go to Antarctica! I’ll be a better Cougar than she ever was. I’ll show him who’s a focused high-achiever. I’ll show him who’s the face of Australia. And damn it, I’m the soap opera scriptwriter here, not her. I’m taking control of this scene, starting now. Standing up, I look her in the eye. ‘I want you out of here. Now.’

      Cougar’s mouth twitches. ‘No need to come over all melodramatic.’

      I walk over and open the door. When I turn back she’s still perched on the stool. ‘What?’ You want it in writing?’ I hesitate, take a deep breath and say my next line. ‘You man-stealing tart.’ My cheeks flush red at my daring.

      Cougar seems more puzzled than angry. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘I said’ – I draw myself up to my full height – ‘you man-stealing tart.’

      Cougar laughs. ‘You’ve been watching too much daytime TV, Autumn.’

      ‘Summer.’

      Cougar lowers herself onto the floor. ‘You’re going to regret doing this. You’re out of your depth, Winter.’

      ‘Summer.’

      ‘It’s going to end badly. For you.’

      I’m waiting for her to add Spring, but she doesn’t. I shrug. I don’t want to go to Antarctica and I don’t want to impersonate Cougar but I’m committed now. I stand back to let her through the door.

      Cougar pauses at the doorway and sniffs the air. ‘I don’t mind a bit of Mister Sheen.’

      I stare at her, unsure how to take this. She gives the impression she’s waiting for a reply. As if Mister Sheen is a secret password. ‘Me neither.’

      She winks at me.

      My eye twitches but I am not winking back.

      Cougar swings down the corridor towards the lift like a woman on a mission. She turns as the lift doors shut and the last thing I see is a flash of teeth like the Cheshire Cat, then she is gone.

      Shutting my door, I lean against it. Antarctica. Damn. How did that happen? If only the word igloo had never passed my lips.

      I remember Mum’s warning – encased in snow. I make a mental note to Google igloo-building. Structural integrity may be important if I don’t want to end up buried in snow.

      Chapter Nine

      I encounter a hairy scientist

      Project: Thursday routine

      Objectives: Travel to Hobart / Be Cougar Gale

      ‘Glaciology is the study of ice,’ I say to my reflection. ‘I am a glacio­logist, which is to say I study ice.’

      I am practising for Antarctic conversations. If I’m going to be Cougar Gale I have some work to do. I remember that episode of Days of Our Lives where a character had a chip inserted into her brain which made her become someone else. That would be good.

      My phone dings and I check it. It’s time for my scheduled call with Lucas Nilsson to finalise logistics. Even though I’m now Cougar, I’m also still the production assistant.

      I dial his number and he picks up.

      ‘Lucas Nilsson.’

      He sounds distracted. I try to imagine what he looks like. He’s a scientist so I expect he’s old and hairy and perhaps wearing a moth-holed woollen sweater over shorts which expose his knobbly knees.

      ‘It’s Summer Wright. From Channel Five. I need to check through the spreadsheet with you.’

      ‘Mm.’ The phone bumps and there’s the sound of rustling paper. ‘Where is it? Oh here.’ There’s a bang. ‘Damn.’ There’s more rustling and more banging. ‘I spilt coffee on it.’

      ‘You have the electronic version.’

      ‘Yes.’ There’s the sound of keyboard tapping. ‘Yes. Here it is. Five hundred and thirty-five actions.’

      ‘And two thousand sub-actions. Have you familiarised yourself with it all?’ I feel a knot in my chest. I’m going to Antarctica and my liaison officer is not on the ball. In fact, he seems downright non­chalant. I pick up a pen and gnaw it. ‘It’s very imp—’

      ‘Mm. Just looking through it now. Oh dear, just deleted it. Never mind. I’m sure it will be fine.’

      ‘No, that’s not good enou—’

      ‘Summer, I’m sorry, but the probability of us sticking to that schedule is very low. There are many factors to consider. Antarctica is not Sydney. I have to go now. I have a paper to write. Goodbye.’ He hangs up.

      I