“Annnnnnnnd that’s £500, please,” Lil says with a smug grin, which widens as I sigh and hand her the pretend pink banknote. “Much obliged, Miss Williams!”

“Do NOT stuff that one down your bra, as I’m going to take it from you very soon!” Lydia teases, before rolling the dice and continuing our game of ‘Angels Monopoly.’

Today is day nine of our ‘incarceration’ in the Lincolnshire mansion, and the restlessness is already starting to kick in — hence why many of us have already resorted to Monopoly.

In the few days since Michelle’s departure, a ‘new normal’ was quickly established, just as it had been following Ginny’s departure. Without Michelle as an ‘ally,’ Aura established a new ‘clique’ with Marcie and Hayley, while Lil, Lydia, Martha and I effectively formed the ‘other team.’ While I accepted that this would inevitably happen, what grates the most is that Aura and Lil have effectively appointed themselves as ‘leaders’ of their respective ‘cliques.’ In their minds, they’ve essentially boiled the entire competition down to a two horse race, when there are five more of us who have just as good a chance of winning — my own confidence in particular riding high after avoiding the bottom three last time around.

“That’s £200 please, banker,” Martha says as she passes ‘Go’ — Lil obviously having appointed herself banker before the start of the game. “If tomorrow’s challenge is a Monopoly one, I’m feeling confident, heh!”

“Not sure what the outfit would be for that task,” Lydia mused. “Meghan Markle in 'Suits,' maybe?”

“They were lawyers, not bankers,” Martha retorted. “Though I suppose it could be the same, I mean, I’ve never actually worked in an office, so — yeah.”

“Dina, you’ve worked in an office, haven’t you?” Lil asks, making me bite my lip as I consider my response.

“Yeah, but I — I kinda didn’t wear anything like the outfits you’re thinking of,” I reply, trying not to frown as Lil starts to fidget. “Well, other than during the last twelve months when I’ve been working from home, heh.”

“I keep seeing corporate types whining on Twitter about people working from home doing work in their pyjamas,” Martha snorts. “Does it really matter if the work gets done?”

“Maybe,” I chuckle. “Especially as there were some days I put more effort into my look than my actual work.” I share a giggle with the other girls, grateful to my friend for lightening the mood — or at least making it a little less awkward — and praying that none of my family heard THAT little admission.

“Well, I definitely know who I’m going to collab with next time I do a style vid for pencil skirts!” Lydia teases, sharing another giggle with me as we continue our game.

As with all games of Monopoly, we don’t end up with a definitive winner, instead carrying on playing until we all get bored and put the game away. It takes mere seconds after discarding the game for us to the mansion’s bar to mix ourselves some drinks (cocktail making sessions having quickly become a regular part of our evenings). However, the topic of conversation remains the same as it was during the game.

“Honestly, I don’t think I could ever work in an office,” Lil muses as she sips her strong-smelling drink. “I mean, sure, looking cute in a suit, I can do. But sitting at a desk all day, typing bullshit into a computer while everyone else around me does the exact same thing? No thank you!”

“It’s a bit more complicated than THAT,” I retort, before giggling — I don’t want to offend a fellow candidate, after all. “…Okay, it’s only complicated in that you actually have to understand the bullshit you’re typing onto the screen, heh.”

“Do you ever get any interesting cases in your job, Dina?” Lydia asks.

“…I wouldn’t go as far as ‘interesting,’ ” I reply, earning a giggle from my friends. “It’s mostly just managing rich people giving money to other rich people.”

“Ugh,” Lil spits. “No offence, Dina, but I’m working class, my parents are working class, my grandparents were working class, and the thought of rich people juggling around cash like it’s nothing just makes me ill.” Makes it all the more surprising you chose me for your ‘clique,’ then, I think to myself before remembering that Lil isn’t privy to my family history — at least not yet, anyway. I’m assuming — well, more hoping than assuming — that Lydia and Hayley haven't spilled the beans, but the knowing looking Lydia gives me as Lil speaks reassures me that my secret's safe for now.

“So — umm, what did you do before you came in here, Lil?” I ask. “I don’t think you’ve told us?” You’ve told us nearly everything else about your life, though.

“Me?” Lil asks, a smug grin quickly spreading across her face. “Full-time Instagrammer and TikToker. Was making over three grand a month before Covid, but I’m still raking it in in lockdown, heh. How about you girls?”

“I have — well, had — a part-time job in Asda,” Lydia replied. “Still made money off my socials, but not really enough to live off. Well, not yet, anyway!”

“Same,” Martha says. “Worked on the perfume counter in Boots, made a bit of money off of Instagram promotions and have done a bit of modelling in the past, but really just for pocket money.”

“How ‘bout you, Dina?” Lil asks. “Outside of Scrooge McDuck’s money pit, did ya make any money off your socials?”

“Umm, no money, but some, you know, freebies, promotional material, that sort of thing,” I reply. “I’ve not really been doing the whole ‘influencer’ thing that long, but I have built up a small fanbase.”

“No offence, but it’s a bit of a surprise that Kelly picked you as her candidate, then,” Lil says as I try not to frown. ‘No offence’ indeed….

“I work hard,” I say with a shrug. “Just ‘cause of how I was born, it doesn’t mean I should take it easy and not try.”

“Well — aye, can’t argue with that,” Lil says, clearly confused by what I said. “What I respect the most about trans influencers is that you guys — sorry, sorry — you GALS always seem to put in the extra effort, go the extra mile, and always look gorgeous when you do.”

“R- right, yeah,” I say, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that when I said 'background' Lil assumed I meant 'AMAB' and not 'pseudo-royalty.' “And it helps that I genuinely love creating content, experimenting with make-up looks, hair… yeah.”

“Hell, who doesn’t?” Lil asks to general murmurs of agreement.

“We’re overdue a hair and make-up challenge…” Lydia muses.

“I’m getting ideas for new looks already!” Martha giggles. “And new vids for when I get out of here. Reckon there’s a promotional deal available for a mixed-race girl and her three white sidekicks?”

“Oh — sidekicks?” Lil asks, barely keeping her temper in check as the rest of us giggle, before making an obvious decision to take the teasing on the chin and giggle along with us.

With the aforementioned challenge coming tomorrow, the four of us only have two drinks each before heading back to our rooms for an early night, where the alcohol combined with my confidence about the next task help me to quickly drift off to sleep. Thankfully, my head isn’t throbbing too much when my alarm wakes me the following morning, and after a quick shower, I pull on a clean grey tank top and denim skirt and head down to breakfast. Much to my surprise, though, I’m the first one awake. I’m up so early, in fact, that I’ve already finished my breakfast and am on my second cup of coffee before anyone else emerges — and again, much to my surprise, it’s my fellow trans woman.

“Hey Hayley,” I say, smiling as the dark-haired woman gets herself a mug of coffee and sits down opposite me. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Hayley replies with a smile. “Just taken my oestrogen tablet, kinda need something to wash it down, heh.”

“I’ll try not to be TOO jealous,” I say, chuckling even as Hayley blushes.

“Ugh, sorry Dina, I — I kinda forget, you know?” Hayley asks as I smile sympathetically.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Hell, there are times even I forget, like, last night I was talking to Lil about my job — I mean, before coming in here — I said something about ‘my circumstances’ and didn’t even think that it could be interpreted as meaning ‘being trans.’ ”

“When in fact you meant your family?” Hayley asks, smiling as I nod.

“Part of the reason I’m hoping to stay in here as long as I can is so I can avoid going home to face the music, heh,” I chuckle tiredly. “Or at least delay it, I guess.”

“In a real family there wouldn’t be any ‘music’ to face,” Hayley says bluntly. “Especially if they’re as upper class as you say, surely the whole point of having nobility is for them to set a positive example for everyone else?”

“Oh yeah, there are responsibilities,” I snort. “But the only ‘responsibilities’ are setting a good example for the rest of the family, living up to THEIR expectations.”

“That sounds a little… pointless, if you don’t mind me saying,” Hayley says cautiously.

“It is what it is, I suppose,” I say with a shrug. “It’s weird to actually be getting, like, an outsider perspective on it. Growing up I was always told ‘family before everything,’ and I just thought ‘this is normal, this is how it has to be.’ ”

“I think most families are like that, to be fair,” Hayley sighs.

“Yeah, but — put it this way,” I say. “Have you ever known an openly LGBT member of the royal family?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Hayley replies. “I’m sure there must be at least one, though.”

“You’d think,” I snort. “My older brother’s gay, and he used to be a member of our family. USED to be.”

“Ugh,” Hayley spits. “Well, so much for setting an example, then….”

“More like MAKING an example,” I sigh. “And I know I’ve got it coming my way when I get home, heh. But the thing is, I- heh. I doubt I’ll need to explain this to you of all people, but if I — if I’d decided to stay as I was, keeping my head down and keeping being ‘William,’ it — it actually would’ve been harder, felt harder than being my real self, you know?”

“Yep, all too well,” Hayley sighs.

Before we can continue the conversation any further, though, Aura and Marcie — the other members of the ‘other clique’ — arrive, and soon the topic turns to other, less ‘intimate’ subjects, and I quickly end up getting pushed to the ‘sidelines’ of the breakfast conversation. Thankfully, Martha and Lydia arrive shortly afterwards, with Lil bringing up the rear, and before long the breakfast table is abuzz with activity — though noticeably, there's not much conversation between the two different 'cliques.'

As with the last two ‘challenge days,’ though, it isn’t long before the conversation at the breakfast table is interrupted by the big screen in the adjacent living area — and the call of Hannah Dexter’s voice is all it takes for us to go scurrying back to the sofas.

“Good morning, Angel candidates!” The tall, blonde ‘Angel’ greets us from the screen, flanked on both sides by separate screens bearing the faces of Angels Alice and Mary. “I hope you’re all rested and raring to go for your third challenge today!”

“ ‘But what is the challenge?’ I hear you ask,” Alice says with a giggle. “Well, we’re going to switch things up a little. The last two challenges were very physical in nature, so this one’s going to be a little more ‘thinky.’ ” And as most of the other girls in here don’t have university degrees, that puts me at an advantage, I think to myself as I try not to feel too smug about my chances.

“Would we lie to you about this? No,” Mary teases. “However, we would like you to lie to us. Or rather, to each other.” Huh? I think to myself — and I’m clearly not the only one confused.

“If you’ll remember, when you filled out your application forms, we asked you to include an interesting fact about yourself,” Hannah explains. “Something unusual, out of the ordinary, something other people might not believe. It’s your job now to convince the others that what you’re telling them is true.”

“Except… for some of you, it won’t be,” Alice says with a devilish smile. “In your rooms you have been left an envelope. For some of you, it will contain the interesting fact about you. For others, it will contain a lie that was written by the producers, but that you will need to convince the others is true.”

“There’s no ‘automatically in line for elimination’ condition in this challenge,” Mary says, “but if you’re able to successfully fool the others, as in have the majority believe you’re telling the truth when you’re lying and vice versa, then you’ll be automatically put through to the next challenge.”

“Your mentors will be on hand to give you advice if you need it,” Hannah says. “But until then, good luck!” The screen switches off and immediately an air of excitement fills the room.

“Aww, I love ‘Would I Lie to You!’ ” Lil says with an excited giggle.

“Bob Mortimer is HILARIOUS when he’s on it,” Lydia concurs as we head back to our bedrooms to consult with our mentors. However, I can’t help but feel a pang of nerves. Of all the activities we could be doing after discussing keeping the 'real me' from my family, it’s ‘creative lying.’ And on my application form, the interesting fact I put was ‘my grandfather once had the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh around for dinner,’ and there will be hell to pay if THAT gets streamed for the whole world to hear….

When I make it back to my bedroom, the pink envelope is waiting for me on my pillow, but before I can tear it open, my screen beeps to inform me of an incoming call — and unsurprisingly, when I answer the call I’m greeted by the smiling face of my mentor.

“Hey Dina!” Kelly says with a smile. “Well, here we are, task three!”

“Yep!” I giggle.

“How are you feeling about this one?” Kelly asks.

“A bit — a bit nervous, actually,” I reply. “I’ve never been great at, well, improvising, and if I do have to tell the truth, well — that might be even worse, heh.”

“Okay,” Kelly says, clearly trying to be reassuring. “Well as always, I can only give you hints on the best way to approach this challenge. This one’s all about personality, so try to relax and let the ‘real’ Dina come out. Even if you do have to lie to everyone’s faces, heh! Other than that, the usual rules apply. I guess the only other thing I can say is: good luck!”

“Thanks,” I chuckle, before sighing as the call ends.

Interpreting Kelly’s message of ‘the usual rules’ to mean ‘style matters,’ I head into my wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear. I’ve never seen ‘Would I Lie to You’ before, but despite the name implying it’s a show about politics, I infer from Kelly’s advice about letting the ‘real’ Dina shine through that I want something stylish but not too formal. I quickly settle on a long-sleeved dark blue skater dress with a short, flared skirt, a pair of dark black tights and my favourite high-heeled ankle boots. After brushing out my hair and enhancing my make-up to a more ‘Angel-like’ style, I sit down on my bed and pick up the envelope, growling at the instruction on the back that reads ‘do not open until told to do so.’

With no time to waste, I grab the envelope and head down to the main room, where — as with breakfast — Aura, Hayley and Marcie are waiting for me, thankfully equally ‘dressed up’ as I am in designer outfits.

“Oh — hey Dina,” Aura says with a forced-looking smile, before turning back to her two friends and continuing the conversation they were just having. Thankfully, Lydia arrives mere seconds later, not giving me any time to feel awkward, and wasting no time in engaging me in conversation, almost as if to 'combat' the other girls' chat.

“Hey Dina!” Lydia says with a smile as she straightens the hem of her plain but stylish dark green minidress. “Hey, everyone!”

“Hi Lydia,” I say, mirroring my friend’s smile. “Have you been tempted to peek yet?”

“Ugh, from the second I got into my bedroom, heh!” Lydia replies with a giggle — and I can’t help but notice that ‘other clique’s conversation starts to drop off as we talk. “You?”

“I may have let out a little scream of frustration when I saw what was written on the back,” I reply with a giggle of my own, my smile widening as Martha arrives dressed in a stylish minidress with a fitted white bodice and a flared black skirt and clutching her own pink envelope.

“Hey girls!” The dark-skinned girl says playfully. “I take it we’re all equally desperate to see what’s written inside, then?”

“DYING to,” Lydia chuckles. “Though my — my ‘truths,’ at least the ones I put on my application, are at least as ‘unbelievable’ as any lie they can come up with, heh!”

“That’s not an attempt to throw us all off, is it?” Martha asks teasingly. I silently curse to myself — I hadn’t even considered that….

“Would I do that?” Lydia asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, earning giggles from myself and Martha, though I can’t help but notice a sly eye roll from Aura. She rolls her eyes again, though more overtly this time, as the seventh and last ‘candidate’ approaches, dressed in a strapless flared pink dress and playfully fanning herself with her envelope.

“Whew, is it hot in here or is it just me?” Lil asks, the double meaning of her question not lost on me as I force a chuckle out at her joke. “We all ready to get fib — sorry, I mean, are we all ready to get ‘telling the truth,’ girls?”

“Truthfully? Maybe,” Lydia replies, sharing a giggle with our ‘clique’s ‘alpha girl’ before the mansion’s PA system activates and we all immediately pay attention.

“Greetings, Angel candidates,” Kelly’s voice calls. I’m not sure if it’s a good sign that my Angel mentor is the one introducing the challenge, but from what I can tell they do seem to be ‘rotating’ hosting responsibilities between the Angels, so I’m probably reading too much into it. “Please proceed into the conference room and take a seat at the chair with your name on it. One by one, you will be called on to read the statement on your card. You will then answer questions from the others, and at the end, those of you not in the ‘hot seat’ will vote on whether or not you think the story is true by holding up either a ‘true’ or ‘lie’ card. If the vote is 3-3, you will not be automatically put through to the next task. Good luck!”

The seven of us squeak with excitement as we head into the conference room, quickly finding our seats and placing our envelopes into the holders that have been provided. Before we can get too settled, though, the PA system springs to life yet again.

“Angel candidates,” Kelly announces. “In the interests of fairness, we shall ask you to read your statements in alphabetical order.” Making my decision to go by ‘Williams’ instead of ‘Constable’ all the worse, I think to myself as I prepare for a long wait for my turn, before getting a surprise. “Aura, please read the statement on your card.” ‘Randall’ is certainly not the first surname here alphabetically, meaning they’re going alphabetically by first name — and as I glance around the table, I realise that I’ve been bumped up to next in the queue. Nevertheless, I force myself to pay attention as Aura carefully opens her envelope and reads from the card contained within.

“When I was nine,” Aura announces, her facial expression betraying nothing, “my parents grounded me for a week after I drew a cartoon character on the wall of our shed.”

“Okay then,” Lil says, apparently electing herself ‘lead interrogator.’ “Which cartoon character was it?”

“It was, umm, Lisa Simpson,” Aura replies. Is that 'umm' a bluff? I think to myself. And to make matters worse, thanks to my parents’ control of the television when growing up, I’ve never even seen a single episode of The Simpsons….

“Why her?” Marcie asks before Lil has the chance to continue her questioning.

“I’ve — I’ve always admired her,” Aura replies with a shrug. “She’s clever and she sticks to her principles, but she isn’t afraid to show vulnerability either.”

“She’s also vegetarian, but you eat meat,” Lydia says.

“Well I — I don’t agree with ALL of her principles,” Aura says, clearly already getting flustered — assuming that she isn’t acting flustered, anyway.

“What were the circumstances?” I ask, trying not to flinch at the glare Lil shoots my way — clearly, she wanted to speak again, but I don’t want to remain silent throughout the whole task and risk being in line for elimination. “As in, what caused you to want to draw Lisa on the side of the shed?”

“Oh, I — I had a friend at primary school called Lara,” Aura replies. “She was my best friend, and we- we called ourselves ‘The Lauras’, because our names were only one letter removed from ‘Laura.’ ”

“Okay…” I say, making it clear from my demeanour that I want more information.

“She was a big fan of The Simpsons, and things like that,” Aura explains. “So, one day in summer, we’re outside, and Lara shows me a set of chalks she received as a gift from a family member. One thing leads to another, and within minutes we’ve drawn this mural on our shed. Well, my parents are unhappy, and since they obviously can’t punish Lara, I got the blame, and I also had to help my father hose the mural off the shed as well.” ‘Also’ and ‘as well’ in the same sentence? I think to myself. She’s stalling, playing for time….

“Was your dad angry?” Lil asks with a devilish glint in her eye that’s also partially directed at me in a clear attempt to 'reassert dominance' in the interrogation.

“At first,” Aura replies, maintaining her stoic demeanour. “He quickly learned to see the funny side of things, though, and we can laugh at the incident now.” The six of us ‘interrogators’ all nod at Aura’s explanation, and with the questioning seemingly having reached a natural end, the PA system once again springs to life.

“Angel candidates,” Kelly announces. “You have heard the story, now it’s your time to vote. Do you believe Aura? Vote now, and give your reasons as to why!”

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Lil says. Of course you will, I think to myself. “I… believe it.”

“Really?” Marcie asks.

“Sure,” Lil replies with a shrug. “We all do crazy stuff as a kid, right?”

“True, but I- I’m voting ‘lie,’ ” Marcie says. “It just seems too out of character, you know?”

“I agree,” Hayley says quietly. “It doesn’t sound like the Aura I know.”

“I — I’m voting ‘lie’ as well,” I say, holding up my ‘lie’ flag. “A cartoon character? Doesn’t sound feasible to me.”

“I’m saying ‘lie’ as well,” Lydia announces. “It just — it just doesn’t add up to me.”

“I — I’m going to say ‘true’, actually,” Martha says with a cheeky grin. “I reckon Aura was a little tearaway as a kid, hehe!” To my surprise, this earns a small giggle from the otherwise reserved woman, who opens up a flap on her card, ready to reveal the answer.

“Well, four people say ‘lie’ and two say ‘true,’ ” Aura says. “But actually, I was telling… the truth.” I, along with Hayley, Marcie and Lydia, grimace as Aura smugly shows us the green side of the card with the word ‘TRUE’ printed in bold letters. “I’m not proud of it, but some good at least came of it — namely me winning this challenge, hehe!”

“Yes, yes, well done,” Lil says with a chuckle I can tell is disguising barely restrained rage. “Okay, there are no ‘B’s or ‘C’s here, so Dina, you’re next!”

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath as I open my envelope and lean back so the others can’t see what’s written on it. Crap, I think to myself as I read the phrase — and the word ‘lie’ written immediately below. While I’m grateful it’s not the truth that I put down on my application form, I’ve never been good at improvising….

“While I was at university,” I say, “I played a prank on my best friend that they never discovered, and still don’t know about to this day.”

“Ooh, okay,” Lil teases. “Well, obviously, you’re gonna need to tell us what the prank was!”

“Well, a- at university, we all lived in dorms,” I explain, hoping not to make it TOO obvious that I’m stalling while I try to think of something. “Because I — because I wasn’t, well, ‘out’ yet, I lived in the boys’ dorms.” Hopefully if they feel uncomfortable it’ll disrupt their thinking a bit. “My dorm was a few doors down from my best friend Charlie’s, but he — he was rarely in there, except when he was sleeping, I mean. Normally he’d be in the Student Union bar, of with one of his, well, girlfriends….”

“What. Was. The. Prank?” Aura asks pointedly as I feel my palms start to sweat.

“Well we — we had copies of each other’s room keys,” I reply. “For emergencies, I mean. So while he was out, I’d sneak in, and I — I’d…” Come on, think… “I’d steal some of his Maltesers.”

“…Is that it?” Lydia asks, bemused by my tale. “You stole some chocolate one time?”

“Oh, not — not one time,” I retort. “This went on throughout the four years we were at university. Not every night, but Charlie always had an open packet of sweets, usually Maltesers, something for him to nibble on while he studied, he said it helped him concentrate.”

“And he never found out?” Lil asks.

“I only ever helped myself to a few each time, not a whole packet,” I reply. “Though over the course of the four years I probably took several packets’ worth.”

“Have you — have you kept in touch with him?” Hayley asks hesitantly. “I mean, after university, after — well….”

“Ah- no, we sort-of drifted apart after graduation, especially since Covid,” I reply. “So he doesn’t know about, well, ‘Dina,’ heh.”

“So he probably still won’t know he fed you for four years, then?” Lil asks.

“…That’s not the reason I transitioned,” I mumble, hoping again that if I make them feel awkward enough, it’ll keep them off-balance enough to believe my nonsense. “Though if he does find out, I — yeah. I definitely owe him a drink or two, heh.” My admission gets a chuckle from my friends, though my nerves increase as it leads to an awkward silence, which can mean only one thing.

“…Well, ladies, we’ve got a decision to make,” Aura announces. “Though it’s pretty easy for me, I’m afraid. I don’t believe a word of it, Dina, sorry. It just doesn’t seem plausible to me.” I bite my lip to try to hold my emotions in check as Aura holds up her ‘lie’ sign.

“I… I’m saying the same,” Lydia says as she holds up her ‘lie’ sign. “I just don’t see this as, well, ‘big’ enough to be a proper ‘secret story,’ sorry.”

“Dina, I — I love you, but…” Martha says with a grimace. “I don’t love the story, sorry. Not believable enough for me.” I nod as stoically as I can as Martha makes it 3-0 to the ‘lie’ team, confirming that I’ll have no guaranteed safety from this task.

“I’m gonna make it four lies, I’m afraid,” Lil says smugly as she holds up her ‘lie’ sign and my leg starts shaking nervously under the table. “No Scot would ever not notice when they’re being ripped off, heh.”

“I never said he was a Scot,” I retort. “I think he was from down South, somewhere near Sheffield, that area.”

“A Yorkshireman?” Lil asks, laughing as I nod. “Even worse. Definite lie.”

“I’m gonna make it five, sorry,” Hayley says, blushing as she holds up her ‘lie’ sign. “It doesn’t seem, well, ‘big’ enough to be a prank.”

“…Marcie?” Aura asks. “Will you make it unanimous?” I bite my lip as the dark-skinned woman looks at me, before shaking her head and giggling.

“…Nah,” Marcie says as she holds up her ‘true’ sign. “I can see Dina being cheeky like that in uni, hehe!”

“…It’s 5-1, Dina,” Lil says as all of my fellow candidates look at me expectantly. “Don’t keep up waiting…”

“Okay, then,” I sigh as I open the tab on my card and turn it round. “I was lying, heh.” Naturally, this earns grins from all of the other women- even Marcie, who smiles sympathetically at me as Hayley gets ready to take her turn.

The next 45 minutes is spent listening to tall tales, such as Hayley’s (true) story of when she got lost on a set tour of Coronation Street, Lil’s (true) story of sleeping in the wrong tent at Glastonbury and accidentally swapping boyfriends with another girl, Lydia’s (untrue) story of accidentally ending up onstage at a Little Mix concert, Marcie’s (untrue) story of her middle name being inspired by a band called Ocean Colour Scene, and Martha’s (true) story of a disastrous attempt to stream playing a videogame online. Of the remaining five girls, only Martha and Lil successfully hoodwink the rest of us, leaving myself, Hayley, Lydia and Marcie as the ones at risk of elimination. Even though my performance on the previous task fills me with confidence, I still can’t help but feel anxious — a feeling that’s clearly shared by the other three girls. Much to my chagrin, though, Hayley and Marcie immediately head away together after the task — presumably to discuss their performance — while Lil immediately re-asserts herself as the leader of our ‘clique’ once Kelly announces that the task is officially over and that those who are up for elimination will be announced soon.

“Well, THAT was a fun one!” Lil giggles as she leads Lydia, Martha and myself toward the kitchen for lunch — though Lydia and I obviously don’t have much of an appetite right now.

“A stressful one, maybe,” I say, smiling as Martha places a comforting arm around my shoulders.

“Nah, you did great,” Martha reassures me. “God knows I’d have panicked if I’d had to make up a story on the spot like that, heh.”

“I reckon you’ve probably done enough,” Lil says, not exactly filling me with confidence, especially as she then goes straight back to talking about her own tale of tent and boyfriend swapping as we sit down for lunch.

After lunch, the mansion’s PA system summons us back to our rooms, where unsurprisingly, my screen is already pinging to alert me of an incoming call.

“Hey Dina!” Kelly says with a smile that I try to mirror as I answer the call. “Three challenges down, hehe! How d’you think that went?”

“Honestly? Could’ve gone better,” I reply. “As if the first task didn’t prove enough that improvisation isn’t my strong suit, heh.”

“I thought you did well, actually,” Kelly says. “Of all the ‘lies’ that were put in those envelopes, you probably had the hardest one, the one that needed the most ‘improvisation.’ Don’t worry, I will point that out and advocate for you when it comes time for us to decide which three we’re picking for elimination.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “I won’t lie — heh, irony unintended, but I — I am a little nervous, heh.”

“That’s understandable,” Kelly says sympathetically. “And like all TV shows of this nature, it’s only going to get harder as it goes on. But you recovered well from task 1, you smashed task 2, I’m sure this’ll just be a ‘blip’ in the road.”

“Thanks,” I say softly. “Heh, I nearly asked you just now how I’m coming over with the viewers at home, but I know you can’t answer that.”

“ ‘Fraid not,” Kelly sighs. “Though as before, I can say that the show as a whole is getting good streaming figures, good enough that there’ll probably a season 2. Heh, where — umm, where one of the candidates in the house right now will be one of the ‘mentors,’ heh.”

“And hopefully that one will be me,” I say with a nervous, tired chuckle that my mentor echoes.

“You never know,” Kelly teases. “All I’ll say for now is to rest up, get your strength back, and maybe go easy on the cocktails tonight — and not just because you might be nominated tomorrow, heh!”

“Have I been THAT bad?” I ask, trying not to blush.

“Let’s just say,” Kelly replies, “if Scottish people had a reputation for holding their drink before, they probably won’t after the show airs.”

“…Hint taken,” I chuckle.

“I would stay and chat longer, but me and the other Angels have a tough decision to make,” Kelly says. “We’ll talk soon though, no matter what the decision is.”

“Okay,” I say with a smile. “Talk soon!”

“Talk soon!” Kelly echoes before ending the call and leaving me with my own thoughts.

As with the first two challenges, the rest of the day is spent almost in a state of limbo, not just for me, but for all of the candidates. Unsurprisingly, this causes the two ‘cliques’ that have formed to close ranks even more than before. Aura, Hayley and Marcie spend the afternoon exploring the grounds of the mansion, leaving Lil, Lydia, Martha and I to the main living area, where we while away the rest of the day watching a movie and playing on the Switch. The two ‘groups’ come together for dinner, but even then, there isn’t much ‘cross-interaction,’ and rather than hit the bar for another evening of cocktails, all of us opt for an early night.

Thankfully, having heeded Kelly’s advice, my head is free from pain when I wake up the following morning, and after a quick shower, I apply a light layer of make-up and pull on a long-sleeved, scoop-necked black bodysuit, a short grey skirt and black tights, reasoning that I may as well be comfortable now if I have to change for the ‘persuasion’ later.

Unlike yesterday, though, when I head down to breakfast, I discover that I’m one of the last to arrive.

“Hey Dina!” Lil says as I grab my toast and coffee — she’s clearly in a good mood, being guaranteed to not be in consideration for elimination today.

“Hey girls!” I reply as I sit down next to Lil, Lydia and Martha — the latter of whom is also looking relaxed with her make-up free face, plain denim skirt and baggy hoodie. “I won’t lie, I’m feeling pretty nervous, heh.”

“Me too,” Lydia sighs. “I mean, at least one of us, right?”

“Nah, it’ll be only one of you, and whoever it is is guaranteed to stay,” Lil says confidently. “I mean, it’ll be Marcie’s third time in a row, right? She can’t stay forever….”

“Even if I would prefer not to be the only non-white face in the house,” Martha muses. “Still, when you think about it, they DO need to replace Malaika…”

“While they don’t need to replace Jamie or Kelly?” I ask, biting my lip as the mixed-race girl frowns.

“I didn’t mean it like THAT,” Martha retorts, before sighing and placing a comforting arm around me. “I- I’m sorry, Dina. What the Angels of course DO need is a gorgeous Scottish brunette, hehe! Or a gorgeous Geordie brunette, of course.”

“Or a leggy young blonde who takes glasses wearing from ‘cool’ all the way to ‘hotter than hell,’ ” Lil says, giggling as Lydia blushes.

“Or Martha Steadman,” I say, smiling as the dark-skinned girl’s cheeks start to redden. “Because, well, she’s Martha Steadman.”

“Absolutely!” Lil cheers, which at least partly puts my mind at ease as I try to eat my breakfast.

Nevertheless, my nerves start to jangle shortly after breakfast, when we’re called through to the conference room and the faces of Hannah, Alice and Krystie are already on screen as we take our seats. Now or never… I think to myself.

“Angel candidates,” Hannah says as we all watch on. “The nine of us have finished reviewing the footage of yesterday’s fashion show, and we have each independently decided on the candidates that are nominated for elimination.”

“As you know,” Krystie continues, “Martha, Aura and Lil are all immune to elimination after this challenge, based on their performances in yesterday’s task. This leaves Lydia, Dina, Hayley and Marcie at risk.”

“And that means that I have the unpleasant task of announcing the candidates who’ll be facing elimination,” Alice says with a sad sigh. “And they are: Marcie.” I glance over at the dark-skinned girl, who lowers her head sadly — she was clearly expecting a third successive nomination. “Hayley,” Alice continues, and I can’t help but smile sympathetically as the dark-haired trans woman’s lip starts to quiver. “And… Dina.” I close my eyes and sigh — while a part of me was expecting it, it still feels like a gut punch to hear it said out loud.

“The remaining four of you are guaranteed to stay for the fourth task,” Hannah states. “Marcie, Hayley and Dina: you will have the chance to speak to your Angel mentors shortly. After that, you’ll face the rest of us to try to persuade us why you deserve to remain in the competition. Good luck.” I bite my lip and take several deep breaths as the call ends and the eyes of the room turn in the direction of Marcie, Hayley and myself — and even though I’m feeling confident, nothing is guaranteed, after all.

“…Yep, this still sucks,” Lil sighs, breaking the awkward silence in the room, not getting the chance to say anything more before the PA system springs to life.

“Marcie, Hayley and Dina: please return to your rooms, where your Angel mentors will contact you shortly,” the announcement says, and as with the first task, I feel every pair of eyes in the room stare at me as I rise from my chair and head back to my room, where my mentor’s face is already waiting for me on the screen.

“Hey Dina,” Kelly says softly. “Here we are again, heh.”

“Yep,” I sigh. “I mean, I figured I might, but — yeah. Always hurts to hear your name actually called.”

“For what it’s worth, I really did try to advocate for you,” Kelly says. “It came down to a toss-up between yourself and Lydia for the final spot in the bottom three — though do not play on that, or the fact that Marcie’s been in the bottom three for three tasks in a row. You can’t afford to let yourself be complacent, especially not in the persuasion. As with last time, I can’t take part in your ‘persuasion,’ but my advice to you is the same as before: look matters, don’t be too aggressive with any sob stories, and most importantly, be yourself.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“As with before, you have a good chance of staying,” Kelly advises. “But it’s no guarantee. Speak from the heart, speak from the brain, don’t be too assertive, but don’t be too passive either. You’ve got this. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I whisper again as Kelly’s call ends and I find myself once again having to improvise a stylish outfit at short notice.

Knowing that my current bodysuit and skirt are too casual for the ‘persuasion’ — as well as too similar to the outfit I wore last time — I strip them off and enhance my make-up before reaching into my wardrobe for the outfit I’d chosen even before task 2, in case I ended up in the ‘persuasion’ again.

As with last time, rather than a dress, it’s a two-piece outfit. The top is a long-sleeved dark green bodysuit that clings to but enhances what few curves I have and has split cuffs that expose my hairless forearms every time I gesture, while the black skirt is long- much longer than I normally wear- but has a ruffled slit up one side that nicely exposes a lot of my nylon-covered left thigh. After brushing my hair into a playful but stylish wave, I clip on my favourite necklace and bracelet, slip my feet into a pair of ankle boots with a heavy, chunky four-inch platform heel and sit down on my bed, awaiting my turn before the Angels.

What feels like an eternity passes before my name is called, and (wobbling slightly in my heels), I raise from my bed, straighten my skirt and give my hair one final check before heading down to the conference room, where as expected, the faces of eight of the Angels greet me. Thankfully, before I can freak out completely, one of the eight women sets me at ease with the first words they say.

“Hi Dina!” Krystie says with a smile. “You have GOT to tell me where you got that skirt!”

“Thanks,” I giggle bashfully. “I actually got it from an Etsy store, but I can’t remember the name off the top of my head.”

“Well, as long as you DM me when you get home,” Krystie says, before smirking at my momentary panic. “Whenever that is, of course!”

“Y- yeah,” I chuckle anxiously.

“As with last time you were here,” Jamie explains, “we’re going to put a five-minute clock up on the screen, and you’ll have those five minutes to tell us why you should still be in the running to be the next Angel.” I bit my lip and nodded as the clock appeared on the screen, taking a deep breath as it ticked over to 4:59.

“I- I don’t know what more I can say than last time I was here,” I say, trying desperately to stay calm. “I work hard and put a lot of effort into everything that I do, but improvisation isn- isn’t my strong point. I know, it’s ironic considering that I come from the city that hosts the country’s biggest stand-up comedy festival, but I always prefer to plan everything I do carefully and make sure that I get it right. This outfit is an example of that — I had this picked out from before even the last task, just in case I was up for elimination again.” I smile as the Angels all nod, and I start to relax as I continue my spiel.

By the time my five minutes ends, I’m feeling confident that I have once again secured my place in the competition — though this doesn’t stop my hands from shaking as I return to the main living room and sit down next to Marcie and Hayley, both of them having obviously been called before me. Thankfully, this means that we don’t have long to wait for our fate to be decided.

“Angel candidates,” Jamie says, flanked by Abbey-Gayle and Kelly and clearly causing Hayley’s anxiety levels to skyrocket — Jamie is her mentor, after all. “The nine of us have completed our discussion, and we have made our decision as to who will be the third candidate to leave the competition.”

“Marcie,” Abbey-Gayle says, “the other Angels are very impressed with your continued determination despite setbacks, and your loyalty to those around you.

“Dina,” Kelly says, “the other Angels complimented your professionalism and your dedication to continually improving yourself.” Could be worse, I think to myself.

“Hayley,” Jamie says, “the other Angels are impressed by your humility and your selflessness, and your great sense of empathy toward others.”

“But for one of you, I’m afraid the competition ends here. And the Angel candidate who will be leaving us today,” Abbey-Gayle announces. “Is…”

“…Dina,” Kelly says.

Immediately, I feel myself starting to double over, only stopped by Martha leaping from her seat and wrapping her arms around me as the colour drains from my face and tears start to stream from my eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Martha whispers in my ear as I find myself in the middle of a group hug. “When we all get out of here, Angel or not, we’re all going to meet up, we’re all going to get together and still be friends. Okay?”

“O- okay,” I sob as the enormity of the situation suddenly hits me.

I have failed.

I wanted to be an Angel. I truly believed that I could be the next Angel. But I was wrong. Am I also wrong about believing I could be a woman, too? Without a drop of additional oestrogen in me, I entered a competition that wasn’t just for women, but for models — supermodels, even — and I didn’t just make it to the final nine but to the final seven out of God knows how many who entered. Seventh out of potentially thousands. Is that really a failure? Certainly, my friends — and that’s what the six remaining women are, friends rather than opponents, especially now — don’t seem to think so, and neither did Ginny or Michelle, despite the latter’s haughty attitude.

And it’s not like my old humdrum life is waiting for me when I get home. As Kelly has told me, simply appearing on this show, even if I don’t win, will give me enough exposure that brands and companies will be cramming my inbox with requests to partner with me. I may even need to hire an agent to represent me to filter all the work I could be getting. And most importantly of all, appearing on streaming TV like this is as ‘persuasive’ as evidence gets that my desire to be a woman is real, and hopefully my counsellor will agree with and finally prescribe me the HRT I want so badly. How can I believe that I’ve failed as a woman, when my life as a woman is only truly starting now?

“I- I’m okay, I’m okay,” I whisper, fanning myself with my hands as my friends slowly release me from their arms. “I — heh. I never had any real chance of winning anyway…”

“Don’t say that!” Lydia chastises me. “You wouldn’t be in here if Kelly didn’t think you could win.”

“And you wouldn’t be in here if you weren’t as gorgeous a woman as any of us, either,” Martha says, giving me another long, tight hug before the PA system comes to life once again — or rather, for me, one final time.

“Dina,” Kelly says gently. “Please say your goodbyes and get ready to leave the mansion.” Unsurprisingly, this causes the reality of the situation to hit me again and elicits more tears from my eyes. Thankfully, the production team allow me to take my time saying goodbye to everyone, before the same two smartly dressed men who escorted Ginny and Michelle away from the mansion appear at the door. I smile one last time at my friends before the men close the door behind me, before letting out a sigh as they follow me to my room.

“Feel free to take your time packing,” the taller of the two men says with clear sympathy in his voice. “You’ll have the chance to talk to your Angel mentor, then one of us will drive you back home.”

“What, all the way to Edinburgh?” I ask.

“This episode isn’t going out for another few days,” the shorter man replies. “We don’t want you getting recognised on public transport and giving the game away. The contract and NDA you signed also states you can’t make any ‘live’ posts on social media until that time either, and normally we’d ask you to not leave your home either, but that’s already kinda covered by — well, yeah.” I smile and nod sadly as the man gestures to the blue facemasks he and his colleague are wearing.

“…As long as we can stop at a drive-through on the way back to Scotland, it’s a long way with no food, heh,” I say, earning a chuckle from the men.

“Oh, THAT will definitely happen,” the shorter man says, before opening the door to my room. Naturally, before I can even start packing, my screen informs me of an incoming call, which I immediately answer.

“Hey Dina,” Kelly says with a sad smile that I mirror. “…Yeah. For what it’s worth, I personally thought you were REALLY unlucky. The main reason you were chosen to leave is because Hayley and Marcie came in here and basically — well, whatever the opposite of ‘throwing someone under the bus’ is, they did that to each other, bigged each other up, said they’d rather they went if it meant the other could stay, and — yep. Camaraderie is a big thing for us ‘Angels’, and it obviously resonated.”

“So, were you — were you the only one who didn’t vote for me to leave?” I ask, sighing and trying not to feel angry about the circumstances of my departure.

“Alice and Krystie also voted for someone else,” Kelly replies. “We try to never make it unanimous, but six votes against — yeah. It was pretty brutal.”

“And the other Angels are okay with Hayley, Marcie and Aura former their own ‘clique’?” I ask, biting my lip as Kelly frowns at my suggestion — the first time I've ever seen her even slightly annoyed.

“No more than you, Martha, Lydia and Lil doing the same thing,” my mentor replies. “I mean, I get it, seven strangers are going to naturally form sub-groups, but — yeah. We are kinda hoping that everyone will ‘coalesce’ into one group before the end, which will hopefully make a winner easier to pick, but — yeah. This is the first time we’ve done a competition like this, so everything’s still untried, untested.”

“I guess I’m happy to be part of the ‘experiment,’ then,” I chuckle.

“Oh, don’t worry, you will benefit too,” Kelly says. “Even those who aren’t going to be ‘Angels’ are being looked at by the agency, and while we don’t have an office in Scotland, it doesn’t mean that we won’t consider you for representation when your channels grow a bit more, and believe me when I say that they will grow following your appearance on this show. A lot. I’ve — heh. I’ve already promoted your channels on my own and your follower numbers have been rising fast.”

“Thanks, I really do appreciate that,” I say with a smile.

“Like I said before the show started, keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be fine,” Kelly says. “And I hope you’ll be able to come back for the finale so we can finally meet face to face. Well, face to face without screens in the way, heh!”

“I’ll keep that day free,” I say, earning a giggle from my mentor. “I’d like to meet face to face too, all of this still feels kinda unreal, heh.”

“Well, trust me, it’s as real as it gets,” Kelly says with a smile. “I know that reality TV gets a bad rap, and Covid has made everything seem strange recently, but you really were nearly the next Angel. But more importantly, you really are a real, REAL woman. No matter how you were born, no matter what idiots or bigots say about you, I can say with absolute certainty that Dina Williams is 100% a woman who I am proud to call my friend. And I can’t wait to see you continue your journey into womanhood and really make it your own.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “I’ll try to make you proud, heh.”

“You already have,” Kelly reassures me. “I think we’ve both got to go now, but my DMs will always be open and I expect to get one when you’re back in Scotland, okay?”

“You got it,” I say, wiping a stray tear from my eye before sighing. “Thank you again for everything, this has — heh. This has definitely been one of the best experiences of my life.”

“I’m sure it’ll only get better from here,” Kelly whispers. “Talk again soon, Dina.”

“Until next time,” I whisper, smiling sadly and grabbing my suitcase as the screen switches off.

Minutes later, I’m led to the back seat of a large car, and shortly afterward I’m back on the road, leaving the mansion behind me as I head back north — back home. As the driver and I hardly speak during the journey, it gives me time to really mull on Kelly’s words and process the experience I’ve just had. For eleven days, I was taken out of my comfort zone, thrust into a very high-intensity situation with eight other women, and I didn’t just survive, I — despite my early exit — thrived. My ‘presentation’ as a woman wasn’t questioned at any point. I was included more than I’ve ever been, at school, university — or even my family. And I made friends, real friends who like ‘Dina’ for ‘Dina’ — or rather, like me for who I am. Friends I will stay in touch with and who I can’t wait to meet up with once I’m back home. Friends who I know will stay in touch, unlike the woman whose name I have ‘appropriated.’ And yet I can’t stop thinking about Dina Black, what she’s doing now, whether or not she’s watching the show — and how she’d react to seeing one of the ‘boys’ she knew from university walking around with her name….

It's late evening by the time I arrive back in Edinburgh, having made two stops along the way for food and to use the toilet (it still feeling unusual for me to use the ladies’ room). After plugging in my phone (which was unsurprisingly drained of battery during my stay in England), I kick off my heels, flop down on the sofa and switch on the television. However, while I’m able to resist the temptation to check my social media for the growth that Kelly told me about, one temptation is too great for me to resist. I bite my lip nervously as I switch on my Fire Stick and log in to Prime Video, where, unsurprisingly, ‘So You Want To Be An Angel’ is the top of my recommended list. Reasoning that I’ve already technically ‘seen’ most of the episodes, I click on the latest one and within seconds am greeted by the events of four days ago — albeit from a different angle.

While I initially cringe at the sight of my face on TV, as the episode goes by, I find myself marvelling at how effortlessly I fit in with the other women. Neither Hayley nor I ‘stick out’ at all, even despite my lack of ‘shape,’ and in some of the wider shots, my outfit is the only way I have of identifying who I am. It’s easy to feel sceptical when a friend compliments you and tells you you’re naturally feminine. It’s a lot harder to feel sceptical when you have video evidence of it right in front of you.

Feeling empowered as the episode ends, I boot up my laptop and email Dr Clarke, asking for an emergency appointment the following day to discuss HRT. While my laptop is switched on, despite my NDA, I find myself drawn to see just how much my social media presence has grown and whether the growth is as dramatic as Kelly implied. After ensuring that I’m logged out in my browser, I open up my Instagram page, and my jaw drops at what I see.

Before entering the mansion, I had amassed what I thought was an impressive total of 16 000 followers. Today, though, that total stands at nearly 200 000. While this is still dwarfed by the millions who follow Angels like Kelly, Jamie or Hannah, it’s still way, way more than I could ever have dreamed of. And when I click onto my scheduled posts that are being uploaded to my page, almost all of the comments are a combination of ‘Dina Williams for the win,’ ‘Dina: Scotland’s Angel,’ ‘#TeamDina’ and countless more supportive slogans. And while there are the occasional transphobic comments, they all have minimal ‘likes’ compared to the supportive comments and are almost completely drowned out by the messages of support.

While I’m eager to explore my new social media presence further — and see what partnership offers I have in my inboxes — the combination of a long, anxiety-filled day and a 300+ mile car journey quickly catches up with me, and I head to bed shortly after 9:30pm, my depression at my elimination replaced by an eagerness to make the most of my new-found fame.

I’m woken the following morning by a loud banging on my front door, and for a moment, it takes me a while to realise where I am — in my own bed, instead of the bed I slept in for the previous ten nights. It almost feels like a come down to get out of bed and head through to the kitchen to not find six other women there waiting for me, though the repeated banging on my door reassures me that I’ll at least see another human face today… and they’ll also see mine. I pause briefly as I pull on my frilly pink dressing gown, musing on the fact that today is a Tuesday, and — other than my stay in the mansion — it’ll be the first Tuesday ever when I don’t spend a single second as ‘William Constable.’

The next time I leave my flat, it will be as ‘Dina Williams.’ Every time I leave my flat from now on, it will be as ‘Dina Williams.’ When I open the door and greet whoever’s come to see me, it will be as ‘Dina Williams.’

As I open the door, though, I get a stark reminder that not everybody will approve of this.

“YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!” My father yells in my face as he and my brother James barge past me into my flat. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”

“D- dad?” I ask, tears immediately welling in my eyes.

“Do you think it’s funny?” Dad asks, backing me into my living room as James stares at me judgementally. “Mincing and prancing around, pretending to be a woman while the rest of us actually care about our family?”

“I- I do care…” I feebly moan, my head spinning as what feels like a hundred nightmares are happening all at once — though I instinctively know that this is not a dream.

“IF YOU CARED, THEN YOU WOULDN’T PROSTITUTE YOURSELF ON GARBAGE TELEVISION LIKE A COMMON TRANNY WHORE!” Dad bellows as I start to feel the bile rise in my throat. “Do you even know what all of our business rivals are saying about you prancing around, pretending to be a woman? Do you know how ashamed you’ve made your grandfather?” I take several deep breaths to calm myself as I realise that with the cat now out of the bag, there’s no sense in trying to put it back in — and there’s even less point in trying to mend a bridge that my father has just firebombed into ashes. No version of this conversation is going to end with him forgiving me, or even respecting me, so the only thing I have left is my self-respect. And I’ll be damned if I let him take that away from me.

“…You shouldn’t be in here,” I say firmly. “Covid rul-“

“FUCK COVID!” My father screams, seemingly punctuating his feelings with the spittle that flies out of his mouth and onto my cheek. He must be angry — I’ve never heard him use the F-word before... “Covid didn’t stop you from prancing around with a load of complete strangers, did it? It didn’t stop you from impugning our family name on-screen, did it?” Shit, did they broadcast that? I think to myself. “And while we’re on the topic of Covid, it didn’t stop you from selfishly partying with all of those other whores while Her Majesty the Queen sat alone at her own husband’s funeral, did it?” Huh? I think to myself as I try to process what my father is saying.

“Her husb- funer-“ I stammer. “Prin- Prince Philip’s dead?”

“AS YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU GAVE EVEN THE TINIEST SHIT ABOUT ANYONE ELSE?” Dad yells as I reel from the news. However, despite the death of a man I truly admired, I know that above all else, I must remain true to myself — and to Dina. My father’s next question galvanises my conviction in my mind. “Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?”

“…I. Am. Dina. Williams,” I reply defiantly. “And I don’t need to ‘think,’ I KNOW that’s who I am. Who the fuck do you think YOU are, barging into my home and slandering me like this?” Unsurprisingly, this does nothing to improve my father’s demeanour.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!” Dad bellows. “As far as I’m concerned, you are no longer a part of this family! Think about what you’re throwing away with your selfishness, BOY!”

“I’d rather think about what I’m gaining,” I retort. “And it’s GIRL.”

“I SAY WHAT YOU ARE, BOY!” Dad yells, and I can feel my nails cut into my palms as my blood pressure reaches boiling point.

“Not anymore!” I yell. “I say who I am, ME! And I say that I am Dina Williams!”

“And I say that from today, you are unemployed!” Dad sneers. “You bring the family into disrepute, you bring the company into disrepute! You won’t last a week on your own, within days you’ll come crawling back to me, begging me to let you scrub our toilets for free. Then, and ONLY then will I think about letting you back into our — OUR family!”

“In your dreams,” I spit.

“…Come on James, we’re leaving,” dad snarls, turning his back on me and not looking back, though the same can’t be said for my brother, who turns back and looks down his nose at me with a look of utter disgust on his face. A look that I reply to with a raised middle finger, making him scowl as he slams the door behind himself and our father.

As I’m left on my own, the silence seems to punctuate the situation that I suddenly find myself in. All of my worst nightmares came true, all at once. My family know about ‘Dina,’ and they unreservedly hate ‘Dina.’ My desire to be who I wanted to be has made me an orphan. Except… that’s not right. My father isn’t right. It’s not a ‘desire’ to be who I ‘want to be,’ it’s a NEED to be who I AM. As I told my father repeatedly, I am Dina Williams. And it’s not just me saying it, 200 000 people on the internet — a number equivalent to nearly half the population of the city where I live — agree with me. The Angels agree with me, including whichever of the six remaining girls will be the new Angel.

Nonetheless, I still break down into tears and collapse onto the sofa as the adrenaline leaves my body and I find myself feeling more alone than I ever have. In desperation, I type out a message to Kelly, the only person I can think of at this point in time, explaining what just happened. Less than ten seconds after I send the message, she calls me through messenger.

“Whatever you need, no matter what, I’m here,” the ‘Angel’ says, her face a mixture of deep concern and steely determination.

As I bare my soul to my mentor — or rather, my friend — I can’t help but muse on the irony of the situation. My family, my biological family, anyway, who consider themselves ‘the great’ and ‘the good’ of the country, didn’t hesitate to throw me away like a piece of garbage simply for being the person I want to be, rather than the person I am obliged to be. Could I have handled the situation better? Could I have come out in a more ‘sensitive’ way than on streaming in front of hundreds of thousands? Probably. Would it have changed the outcome at all? Probably not. My ‘father’ and my ‘brother’s actions and words made it quite clear that there’s no room for Dina — not ‘Dina,’ but just Dina — in the family — THEIR family — going forward.

On the other hand Kelly, who doesn’t have any ‘professional’ obligation toward me anymore following my elimination from the show, dropped what she was doing with less than a minute’s notice and came to help me, a person she barely knows and has never even met in the flesh. To her, I’m not just ‘the second spare,’ I’m someone who has feelings, wants and needs. To her, I actually am family.

Over the next few days, Kelly and I speak at least twice a day, with her not even bothering to disguise the fact that she's checking in on me every time she calls. My family — or rather, the Constable family — make no effort whatsoever to reach out to me. Eventually, my elimination is broadcast on streaming, and while it’s bittersweet to experience it all over again, it does at least mean that my social media embargo is lifted, and the first things I see when I log in to Instagram are follows from Ginny Ward and Michelle Reynolds — both of whom I of course immediately follow back.

All my life, I’ve had it drilled into me that nothing is more important than family, than bloodline. But what if family — true family — is about more than just blood, more than just DNA? Being a woman is about more than just DNA, as Jamie, Kelly, and hopefully I have proved. It’s about what’s in your heart, and family should be too. I can be — WILL be — a woman, a friend and maybe even a sister, even if I won’t be an ‘Angel.’

Or so I thought….