We catch a cab for the short ride from Soho to the Lamb and Flag pub, located in Covent Garden, almost below Faith’s flat.

Alex gets a round in. ‘Well, cheers to that.’ He raises his pint of beer.

‘Cheers,’ Faith says, more cheerily, clinking her glass of wine.

I oblige with my tumbler of cranberry juice. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any publicity ideas,’ I kick things off with.

‘I do,’ Faith says. ‘I’ve been thinking, how about we run a competition in Chit Chat to find my next date? Wouldn’t that be a bit of fun. Would that work, do you think, Alex?’

Alex’s lips pull back to reveal his bleached white teeth. His nostrils flare. It’s interesting how someone so undeniably handsome can appear so utterly unattractive.

Faith flicks her long, tousled blonde hair. She’s still made-up from filming. Eyes smouldering. Lips juicy red. Her outfit is a sexy rock-chick ensemble from All Saints. In this quaint little pub in the heart of Theatreland, her local, she stands out by a mile.

After we finished, I got changed into my own stretchy black trousers (that one might call leggings) and an oversized sweater. The outfit Poppy dressed me in for the show was a pretty blue dress, but it wasn’t comfortable. My make-up had melted under the big lights and it was a relief to wipe it off before we left.

‘That’s a fabulous idea,’ Alex says, having finished his Jack Nicholson, The Shining, impersonation. ‘The public can’t get enough of you, Faith, of course it will work. Look at you!’ Instead, Alex glances slyly at me.

‘Oh, stop. Only because Poppy keeps dressing me in these skimpy outfits,’ Faith laughs.

‘We could run a scoop on your mystery boyfriend. “The Unmasking of Master J”.’ Alex shoots me a cunning grin. ‘What do you say, Gracie?’

‘You want to interview Jordan?’

‘Do you have another boyfriend?’

It annoys me when Faith bursts out laughing.

Seeing my scowl, she answers on my behalf. ‘No. She doesn’t.’

‘You’ve let slip enough dirty sex secrets to make it interesting,’ Alex carries on. ‘We could do a saucy photo shoot of you both.’

Dirty sex secrets. The grubby git.

‘Firstly, Alex, what we do and say on air is not real,’ I state. ‘Secondly, my boyfriend is supposed to be mysterious. Exposing Jordan won’t win brownie points with Joanna. It’s a terrible idea.’

‘No photo of your fella, then.’ Alex smirks.

‘Jordan isn’t obliged to expose his private life in some silly magazine,’ I snap. ‘Even if I am.’

Alex sizes me up. But he merely murmurs, breezily, ‘There’s no need to be scrappy.’

‘Oh, but Gracie can be brilliantly scrappy,’ Faith laughs. ‘It’s part of her charm.’

‘I have to go,’ I say, glaring at her. Faith’s never referred to me as scrappy. What exactly does that mean?