‘I’ll be here for as long as it takes, Timothy,’ Joanna says, in a strong New Yorker accent.

Timothy gazes at her with his flinty grey eyes. Joanna checks him by smiling neatly. Her mouth stays closed as her burgundy lips curl. Her dark eyes crinkle at the edges.

Joanna is small, yet wiry. Even from back here at the small table, her biceps are defined beneath her tailored black blazer. Her hair is dark, sleek and cut sharply at the nape. Her fringe is cropped Audrey Hepburn-short. I know from passing her in the corridor that her skin is completely unlined. Aged anywhere between a natural forty and a ‘well-done’ fifty, our new vice president is undeniably attractive. Albeit in a very sharp way.

Rising from her chair, Faith crosses the room to introduce herself. ‘Hello, I’m Faith Williams, agent for Gracie,’ she purrs, shaking hands. ‘Lovely to meet you both. Timothy, always a pleasure.’ Working her stuff at the top table, Faith steals glances at Brian’s little screen. Pedigree looks and the wiles of an alley cat – I’m glad she’s on my side.

By the time Faith returns to her seat, I haven’t moved or said a word.

For some time, Joanna stares at me.

‘So, you’re Gracie from Gracie Porter’s Gourmet Get-Together.’ Joanna sizes me up with her dark-as-black eyes. I’m betting her USP is: I always get what I want.

I need her to like me.

I need her to like me so much that she lets me keep my job – and, with a bit more luck, teaches me how to nail this business of being on television.

‘I’m her. I mean, she… I’m Gracie,’ is what pops out of my mouth.

I sense Faith looking at me sideways.

‘Okay then, Gracie.’ Joanna seems faintly amused, which wasn’t my plan. ‘Shall we proceed?’

‘Indeed,’ Timothy agrees cheerily.

Without further ado, the floor is handed to Brian, who proceeds to reel through a long list of statistics from his iPad. ‘Blah, blah, blah negative.’ ‘Blah, blah, blah consistently poor.’ ‘Blah, blah, blah falling sharply.’ Tapping his screen, he carries on without interruption for such a long time, I lose track of precisely which part of my performance he’s tearing into – I’m pleased Faith is here for me to rely on. At various points, she sends him into a scramble about his calculations and corrects him sharply on what the total addressable market size of media spend in television is in the UK today. Joanna appears, at the very least, bored by it all, which could work in my favour. Timothy is still glancing at her, unchecked by any discouragement. Brian drones on. After a litany of numbers numbers numbers numbers, I actually jump in my seat when the conversation turns.

‘Brian, you may stop now.’ Without raising her voice, Joanna interjects. ‘And turn that thing off.’

‘But—’