Oh, the dichotomy of Charlie. Smooth as butter, he was the ever-articulate hood who might appear entirely sure of himself – but he wasn’t quite as cool as he made out. I had seen it when he’d been abandoned at the altar the year I’d started at Double-decker. Charlie had laughed it off as a narrow escape, proceeding to bed at least half the office when he returned from his solitary honeymoon in Antigua. But that brief glimpse of humility had forged the bond that had let us work together effectively these past years. For all his debonair suavity, beneath the man-tan, the expensive hair and the royal-blue Ralph Lauren beat the still malleable heart of the son of a bank manager from Sutton – not the impenetrable gold-plated shell of Lord Hee-Haw’s son from the Home Counties, as Charlie would have us all believe.

And now, as the champagne drained slowly from the bottle, it transpired that not only did Charlie want me to find a new direction for Renee Reveals, he also wanted me to train up Lyons’s nephew Joseph and Sam Crosswell, son of billionaire entrepreneur and TV mogul Dickie Crosswell. Sally would be promoted to deputise for me, and I would hand over the day-to-day running of the show to her until I’d proved to Charlie I’d got my act together. By the time dessert arrived, I felt mortified – but I had little choice, it seemed.

‘Nepotism’s hardly my thing, Charlie.’ I traced patterns in the cream on my plate. ‘It makes me extremely uncomfortable.’

‘You’re hardly in the highest of moral positions right now, my dear Maggie. You’re wasting yourself.’ His smile was positively vulpine. ‘You should be much further on by now. What happened?’

I shrugged wearily. ‘Love?’ I suggested.

‘Love-schmove. You look utterly miserable. Grow some balls, darling. You’re an extremely capable young woman.’ Charlie leaned back to relight the cigar. ‘Sort yourself out and I’ll give you the True Lives documentary strand to produce.’

‘Really?’ I eyed him warily.

‘Really. It’s all yours. We’re launching the season with a doc about binge-drinking. Right up your street. You have my word as a gentleman, my darling.’

I wasn’t at all sure Charlie was a gentleman.

‘I will sort myself out. I have to say, though,’ I poked at the crust on my lemon tart, ‘I don’t know what it is exactly that excites you so about these two boys. TV should be a meritocracy.’

‘Don’t be so boring, Maggie.’ Charlie exhaled his smoke like the old lounge lizard he truly was, and toasted me lazily with his Cognac. ‘See it as a chance to mould this fresh blood. Train these kids up well, blow that smug creep Kyle out of the bloody water – and you’ll reap the rewards.’