Babyville Page 0,20

tell her about the rumors. Tell her that people are muttering that she's lost it, that it won't be long before she's given the boot, but then again, these are only rumors, and if they're not true he's one messenger who doesn't want to get shot.

That's another thing. She never used to have a temper. Her team used to adore her, they'd go out regularly after work and drink themselves stupid, and Julia was always up for the crack. Now she's far more likely to shout, or belittle, or patronize. The worst thing is that most of the time he can see she has absolutely no clue she's doing it.

Her friends at work have turned against her, and Johnny's only sticking by her because of a shared history, and because he's praying that this is temporary, that one day soon she'll be the old Julia again.

“Off somewhere?” he says, as she starts slowly walking out, a far cry from the dynamo of old, so busy she didn't walk anywhere, she whirled.

“Oh.” She turns, blinking her eyes to bring her back to reality. “Just up to see Mike. Shouldn't be long. He probably wants to give me a bollocking about all those complaints.” Her last show, Summer Fling, sent singles off to the Mediterranean in search of love, but most of the time they ended up with booze and sex, and more than a smattering of bad language. Although the ratings were great, the complaints had gone through the roof.

“I hope you're right,” Johnny says, almost under his breath as he turns back to his computer screen.

Julia turns at the door. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing.”

The lift doors open, Julia steps in, deep in thought, and as the door closes she looks up.

“Shit. I thought this was going up,” she mutters.

“Julia?”

She struggles for a few seconds to remember the face, then the name, because it is not a face she associates with work. “Oh, hi,” she says, placing her. “What are you doing here? It's Maeve, isn't it?”

Maeve nods. “You're never going to believe this, but I've just had a job interview. I was going to call you, actually, when I heard, but then I got so busy preparing for this I never had a chance.”

“What a small world. I didn't even know you were in this game. And aren't you living in Brighton?”

Maeve shrugs and smiles as if to say there is a lot Julia doesn't know. “That's the only thing I can't get my head round. London rents. If I get this, I'll have to move back, and the rents have gone crazy since I last lived here.”

For a second Julia contemplates inviting her to move in with them. God knows they have enough space, but she hardly knows this girl, and Mark would go crazy. “You could try the noticeboard,” she volunteers eventually, and breathes a sigh of relief as the lift doors open and they are on the ground floor.

“If you get the job and you need anything just call,” Julia manages, just before the lift doors close. “Nice to see you again. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Maeve smiles a warm smile. “And to you too.”

As soon as the doors close, Julia turns and looks at herself in the mirrored wall of the lift. Christ, she looks awful. Her hair's greasy, her eyes are bloodshot, and she could pretty much carry the weekly shopping home in the bags under her eyes. At the beginning of the sleepless nights she tried to disguise it with cleverly applied makeup, but she rarely even does that these days. She sighs as the lift opens out on to the twelfth floor, and walks into Mike's office.

“You look fucking awful.” Mike's first words, allowable only because they are friends. And because it is true. “What the fuck is going on?”

Julia smiles. “Lovely to see you too, Mike. And how are you?”

“I'm serious, Julia, you look like shit.” Mike shakes his head and sighs, sadness and sympathy combined in his eyes.

Mike Jones is not the sort of man you would expect to work for a major television company, even less to see behind a large beech desk in an executive office, on the executive floor.

He's dressed as he always is (unless of course there's a big meeting with the ITC and Mike has to explain away explicit language or programming, in which case he wears the one suit he has in his wardrobe; the suit's Hugo Boss, except he wears it with Hush Puppies, which kind of