Babyville Page 0,21
destroys the effect), in jeans and T-shirt. Mike would describe himself as a geezer. Others, who didn't know him, might describe him as a thug. Short, crop-haired, stockily built—Julia always used to tease him by saying she was surprised she hadn't spotted him in the latest football violence videos.
His “genuine Larndan accent,” penchant for football shirts, and liking for more than a few pints with the boys belie a brilliant creative genius. He is a man who is loved by everyone who's ever worked with him, hated and feared by other television companies.
He didn't go to university (“university of life, mate, university of life. Rest of that stuff's for fuckin' ponces, innit?''), started off at London Daytime as a post boy, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Mike Jones is famous for his mind, his constant use of expletives and his—somewhat inexplicable until you get to know him—ability to pull women. Six years ago, at a Christmas party when Julia was very drunk and still found his power something of an aphrodisiac, they went to bed together. It was never discussed again, but Mike has always had something of a soft spot for her, and he is the only one who is actually willing to talk to her about what is going on.
“So come on, what's it all about? You look like shit, your work's going down the pan, I've got researchers in here every other day complaining about you throwing a tantrum, and I'm wondering why the fuck I still employ you. Would you like to enlighten me?”
Julia has turned as white as a sheet. “Are you serious?” she whispers. “Do my researchers really come in here and complain about me?”
“Never mind about them. I want to know about you. I know you're trying for a baby and I know you're having problems.” Julia blanches, but Mike carries on regardless. “I feel for you, I really do, and I can't even begin to imagine the shit you must be going through, but you have to find a way of leaving it behind you when you come to work.”
“I thought I had.” Julia is on the brink of tears, and Mike's voice softens.
“Look, we think you need some time off.”
Her head jerks up. “What?”
“Yeah. Take a few months to get your shit together. Go to a doctor. Go to a health farm. Go on holiday. Fuck, I don't know. Just do whatever you need to do to get back to the old Julia again, and maybe you'll have that bun in the oven by the time you get back.”
Julia sits there, stunned. She wants to cry, to shout, to scream, but she knows Mike, and knows it won't do any good. And finally she realizes that he's right. She's exhausted and she feels as bad as she looks.
And suddenly the prospect of a few months off starts to sound really rather nice.
Eventually she looks up at him. “Okay. I think I probably need the time. But what about my new series? What are you going to do about finding someone for Loved Up?”
“Just found someone,” Mike says triumphantly. “Used to hear about her when she worked at Anglia, but I wouldn't think you'd know her. Lovely girl. Irish. Redhead,” and he winks at Julia, who is already aware of his fondness for Gillian Anderson.
“It's Maeve, isn't it?” she sighs.
“I don't fucking believe it,” Mike barks. “You know fucking everyone! Maeve's coming in on short notice, and she knows about you, and she's happy to take over. Your team met her briefly—”
“She met the team? Jesus, Mike, I'm not even out the door and you've been sneaking around behind my back. I suppose all my team loved her? I suppose they thought she wouldn't be the type to throw tantrums.” This last word is spat out, the smell of betrayal suddenly in the air.
“Julia, relax. No one's done any sneaking. She came in for the first time a couple of weeks ago for another show, and I called her back today because I had Loved Up in mind. There was nothing to tell you, and your team hasn't really met her properly. Although Stella met her while you and Johnny were off doing that recce in Swindon.”
“No one told me,” she says miserably. “They all hate me, don't they?”
“No one told you because no one knew who she was. They probably all thought she was my latest shag.”
Julia manages a smile.
“There you go.” Mike smiles too. “And no, for your