‘A lot as in bottles of vodka and parties that last all night?’ Charlie finally resisted the bread and butter and lit his cigar instead. ‘A lot as in forgetting to ever eat, or being hung-over every morning?’

‘I never party all night.’ I summoned mild indignation with an effort.

‘That boyfriend of yours certainly does. Come on, Maggie. We all know everyone canes it in this game –’ I winced at the youthful expression, ‘and that’s fine, as long as you can still deliver the next day. But you’re in serious danger of getting demoted. Or worse, darling.’ Charlie regarded me coolly. ‘Losing your job entirely.’

I pulled the head off that bloody langoustine so savagely that strange liquid squirted into my eye.

Charlie puffed his cigar at me. ‘And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Now drink up, there’s a good girl.’

Despite his apparent concerns for my welfare, Charlie kept the champagne flowing throughout lunch – until the truth eventually did out.

‘It’s not just you that’s in trouble, darling – we’re in trouble as a show.’ I sensed how hard this was for the sanguine Charlie to admit. ‘Ever since the appalling Jeremy Kyle came on the scene our bloody ratings have been dropping. We need to totally rethink the brand without alienating our audience, and we need to do it fast.’ He ran a weary hand through his luxuriant hair. ‘I want to steer away from the mud-slinging Kyle does so well.’

‘But we’ve been doing it so well ourselves for years.’ I raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. ‘In fact, I thought we started it.’

‘Maybe we did,’ Charlie shrugged elegantly, ‘but it’s time to play it differently, darling. The media’s picking up on the depravity of the chat-show in general. We need to use it to our advantage. Take the upper-hand morally, you know.’ He slid his slightly clammy hand over mine. ‘And it’ll give you the chance to prove yourself again. I don’t want people saying I backed the wrong horse.’

‘God, for a minute there, Charlie, I thought you actually cared.’ I slipped my hand away.

‘I care enough to try to save you from Lyons’s ire.’