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Chapter Two

“Madison Mount, I’ll be your lifesaver on the show. As long as I’m doing my job right.”

She stuck out her hand for me to shake. With her long, swishy, lilac hair, pastel nails and matchy-matchy outfit, she was like a My Little Pony, all rainbows and perfume and lashes that went on for miles.

I was already missing my normal mates, and as she introduced herself in her broad Scouse accent and talked me through all the cameras and mics and what everyone was called in the crew, I knew I could trust her.

But I’ll admit I didn’t know I’d found my ride-or-die best mate until I told her I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up and she shrieked with laughter and told me some of the others already had.

She made it OK to be scared about filming.

I was terrified that first day when I laid eyes on the cameras.

We were thrown into a house with eight strangers and our every move would be filmed.

It wasn’t that I was all sweet and innocent.

Ask my mates, I’ve a reputation for being an idiot sometimes.

I can’t tell you the amount of times they’ve found me spewing up in some nightclub toilet.

It’s not only when I’ve had a drink either, I once climbed up onto my parent’s roof in protest when my dad finished the leftover roast I’d bagsied (if you’ve ever tasted my mam’s roast you would have done the same).

But doesn’t everyone do crazy shit when you’re a teenager, figuring out who you are – and the first time you get an allowance and the chance to spend it?

The difference was, none of that was caught on camera.

I’d known about the idea behind North Stars before I auditioned – I read a flier, signed some forms, got my head round the concept: eight people, chosen from eight cities across the north, all up for one hot summer of partying, flirting, and having a laugh while the cameras rolled and the temperature in the house rose.

We were all picked because – so the producers told us – they wanted real people, people who’d be themselves on-screen.

I’d got nothing to lose, a summer of fun was just what I needed and I’d signed up without worrying about what would come next.

The house was in Manchester’s Northern Quarter but they told us we’d be filming in cities all over the place, having nights out in all our home cities.

So far, so straightforward. But when I learnt only four would make it to the end of the series, and those four would get a chance at being returning cast for a second series, I realised this might be more than just a few weeks of free drinks and VIP entry to bars.

Before I’d even got to the start of filming, the stakes had been raised.

That day, I wasn’t only facing meeting my new housemates, I’d have to work out who my competition was.

I’d met loads of people on the audition day, queuing down the block to secure my shot.

The bosses had already told us that every week the ‘siren of shame’ would blare out inside the house and Sam, the voiceover girl, would get her moment of fame, her voice echoing through the house to reveal the housemate deemed too boring to stay.

I dreaded those days. I knew how to have fun – but it’s different when you know the cameras are on you.

It’s tough to be fully yourself, or at least, it was at first.

We were so aware of the crew on day one, particularly as some of the cameramen were seriously fit – the strong, silent types.

Their arms were so muscly from lugging that equipment about.

But soon enough they blended into the background (just as well, as we were strictly not allowed to chat up the camera crew, we had to pretend this group of gorgeous men weren’t even there, how unfair is that?) and, as we got used to them, we could lower our guards that little bit more.

It was an eye-opener to me that it was often the crew who were wilder than us housemates, but it meant we soon stopped being self-conscious around them.

Madison gave me a rundown of who I’d need to know.

She gestured to Samantha, our queen bee and voice of the show, sitting on the other side of the green room getting her face done.

At that point, everyone else was just a name, sex and age.

Layla, a massage therapist from Newcastle who said she was great at relieving stress; Bobbie from Hull, the baby of the house (who ended up being evicted first, which was for the best as she said she missed her mam); Ella, a receptionist from Blackpool who looked like a model, and the lads: Reed, Shane, Marc and Damon.

She told me the men entering the house were hot, but I hadn’t even blinked when she read out Damon’s name.

If I’d known then that boy would turn my heart inside out, I wonder if I’d have been knocking on the front door to get in the house even faster – or turned and run away.

Every day I wish I could ‘be more Madison’ when it comes to men.

She’s gorgeous, and yes, she told me from that first morning that she’d already decided the hottest guy in the house was Marc from Sheffield – she flashed his application form with a Polaroid attached – half-Yorkshireman, half-Italian, 100% horny, flash bastard.

But even then, she gave me some advice. “It’s OK to fancy them, Angelica, fuck them if you want, but don’t, whatever you do, fall in love.

These guys are here for a good time, not a long time. ”

I’ve spent so much time these last few weeks wishing I could be more like her – ‘thank you, next’ is her mantra. But though I pretend it’s not true, there’s only been one guy in the house for me. Damon Greene.

“Damon Greene is twenty-five and from Otley. Blonde, 6’2” and once had a trial for Leeds United.” Madison had read aloud. “Claims he’s had more birds than hot dinners. I’d stay away from that one, babe. You don’t know where he’s been. Or what he’s caught.”

If I’d have listened, maybe everything would have been different.

Or maybe I’d have ended up with a crush on sweet Reed from Carlisle, or harmless if gormless Shane instead of Damon, the emotional equivalent of dynamite.

But instead, I’d remembered what Anika, my best mate from school had said when she’d phoned from the cruise ship where she was working as a personal trainer.

“Be loud, be proud, be you, Angel-face. No bullshit, no bitching, no regrets.”

It was that last part I was struggling with now.