Babyville Page 0,52
developers seem to adore, even though they're actually just plastic.
The rooms are filled with clothes, boxes, and suitcases. Fay tells me she thought she had found someone to rent it, another friend of a friend, but was let down at the last minute. She is leaving in three days and has been in something of a panic. She apologizes for the mess, for the clothes and the cases, but I can see past that. I can see that it is, thanks to the ceilings and windows, an impressive flat. It could very well be home for a successful television producer living in London.
“I won't bother telling you I'll give you a call after I've seen all the applicants,” says Fay, as we both drain our coffee cups and place them carefully on the coffee table (Heal's). “I like you. I can see you here, and I'd trust you, so if you want the flat for a year, it's yours.”
“I'll take it,” I say, smiling, and three days later I am in, with a week to unpack, settle myself, and explore Belsize Park.
Lorna gave me Julia's number. “She's so nice,” she said. “You must call her.” But I couldn't bring myself to, as by that time I knew I was her replacement, and I wouldn't have known what to say. As hard and ambitious as I am, confrontation is not my style. And anyway, I was here to work. Not to socialize.
One week and I love it. I have started work, met the team, checked schedules, cleared budgets, briefed researchers, lunched liquidly, and already feel part of the furniture.
“I can't believe you've only been here a week,” says Johnny, once Julia's right-hand man, until I started to work on him. I believe I am making some headway, as his phone calls to her are noticeably fewer (I know he's calling her when he speaks very quietly into the mouthpiece, bows his head, and takes quick furtive glances around the office to ensure no one is listening as he passes on gossip).
I have been invited to sit with various big cheeses in the canteen for lunch, or in the bar after work, and I have accepted as many times as I have declined, because age has—finally—taught me that it is not always wise to ignore your peers. Or indeed your team.
I have been firm but fair with my team. While I'm as friendly as I can be, I have also ensured that they are aware of the boundaries. And respect them. I am happy to socialize with them, to be friends with them outside of the office, but when we are in the office I need them to know that I am not their mate. I have little time for mistakes but will reward good behavior, as these years in the business have taught me that this is the best way to get the best out of people.
In fact Friday night, as a thank you for being so welcoming to me, for making my first week so enjoyable (political? me?), I am taking my team out after work. I suggested dinner and, being young, fun, and full of the joys of the weekend, we have decided to drink copious amounts of alcohol before hitting one of those American-style-baby-back-ribs types of places in Covent Garden.
Don't ever accuse me of not knowing the way to a young person's heart.
This is, incidentally, one of the advantages of working for London Daytime Television. The social life that comes as part of the package is enormous. Every night this week I have ended up in the bar at work, talking for hours, before going out for dinner with at least two colleagues.
Exhausted as I now am, the advantages are numerous. I'm starting to feel very comfortable here, I'm getting to know my colleagues, my face is being seen by all the right people, and I am definitely being seen to be committed. Plus it's a damn sight better than going home to an empty flat and drinking a glass of wine on the sofa alone.
Tonight it's Nat, Niccy, Stella, Dan, and Ted. Johnny wasn't feeling too hot and left early today, and I am thankful for that, because, much as I like him, I find it easier to relax when he's not around. And don't ask me why everyone's names are shortened. I have no clue, but it seems to be prevalent. I would, however, shoot anyone who called me May.
We are starting our evening with a