We arrived in London on time and caught a cab to the production team’s head office in Hoxton. I felt my tummy whirl with excitement at what the pre-show filming would involve; it already sounded so glamorous! Marie, being a part-time actress, had been giving us tips, telling us to wear something smart and business-like with no stripes or bright colours for the cameras. Hence I was now teetering down a cobbled courtyard to the head office that was in a complex of old converted stables, wearing my #girlboss black heels that gave me blisters but looked amazing with the deep green jumper dress I had on.
Ben looked super class in his thick woollen coat and the cable-knit scarf that brought out the colour of his eyes. If this went well we could soon be losing all these extra layers and feeling the heat from the sun and I could ditch the one hundred denier tights that were currently the only thing preventing me from developing frostbite.
‘After you.’ Ben winked, holding open the heavy barn door for me. I gave a small curtsey and laughed, before suddenly stopping at the commotion going on inside the open-plan office we’d stumbled into.
There were people everywhere; small meeting rooms seemed to shoot off down bright corridors like clavicles on a heart. Phones were ringing, people were shouting, TV screens were playing some dance music video with three very orange women gyrating in tiny string bikinis. I must have taken a step back into Ben who was gawping at this lively scene with a similarly shocked expression.
Rahul had said it was a low-budget, small TV company, so I’d expected to meet maybe one or two people in a coffee shop or something equally as chilled. I hadn’t expected to be dropped in the media equivalent of the Wall Street trading floor on uppers. We were barked at to move out of the way by three harassed men in baggy black T-shirts and scuffed Converse trainers as they pushed large cameras on tracks past us, while a young woman about the same age as Kelli was concentrating on not dropping a stupidly full tray of teas and coffees, and a pack of hipsters with matching beards and spotty red bow ties were sitting at a round table typing furiously on gleaming Apple Macs.
‘Erm, Ben? Is this the right place?’ I whispered, wanting him to put his arms round me and reassure me that this hadn’t all been a huge mistake. He didn’t get the chance to do this or even answer me as a grinning, chubby man danced over and planted himself in front of us. He literally pirouetted to a standstill and put out a fleshy pink hand as he smiled at us expectantly.
‘Let me guess…’ He twirled a finger that had a tattoo of a moustache down one side. ‘Georgia…’ I nodded. His clean-shaven face broke into a bigger smile, making him look like a plump version of the Joker. ‘I knew it! And that means you must be…’ He pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes, deep in thought. ‘Ben?’
‘Hi, yep, that’s right,’ Ben said. His voice sounded deeper and more manly than normal, in contrast to the high-pitched, camp dancer who was clapping his hands together like a hyperactive seal as if he’d just guessed which box held the £250,000 on Deal or No Deal.
‘Awesome! Welcome, welcome. My name is Blaise; Rahul has told me SO much about you both!’ He started walking off and nodded his head for us to follow him. We nervously glanced at each other and picked up our pace so as not to get separated. Blaise turned back to me and put a hand up against his mouth and said loudly. ‘By the way, can Rahul, like, be any hotter?’ He wiped his brow and pretended to faint before letting out a bark of a laugh that made me jump.
‘Oh, erm, well…’ I stuttered. Ben hadn’t actually met Rahul yet and I may not have told him just how handsome he was. Of course, I knew that he trusted me, but there was no point rocking the boat by telling him I was having lunch with a buff Indian god. But I hadn’t forgotten to mention whether my stunning friend was an ex, unlike Ben when he went out with Alice, I huffed inside.
Luckily Blaise didn’t go on to drool over Rahul any more and just waved manically at a woman at the other end of the room who was on the phone. This didn’t put him off as he yelled loudly, ‘I’ve got Georgia and Ben here! You know, the jilted bride, and her new man!’
‘Oh, well, that’s not really what the story is,’ I said, feeling my face grow flushed.
Blaise turned to face me with a look of surprise. ‘Ah now, darlin’, that is right isn’t it? Your business all came about because you were dumped before your big day?’
He pronounced that word as if spitting out a wasp’s sting.
I nodded. ‘Yeah, but that’s not why we’re here today.’ I couldn’t bear to look at Ben, knowing how humiliated he must feel that he had just been referred to as my ‘new man’ rather than the invaluable business partner and half the brains behind The Lonely Hearts Travel Club that he really was. I felt for his wounded pride and was determined for Blaise to get this.
‘My past relationship doesn’t have anything to do with why we’re here. Rahul told us that this show is going to focus on our business, so we can share advice with others.’ I tried to say it in my most forceful way, despite Alan Carr’s hyperactive younger twin manically grinning back at me.
Blaise wafted his hands and let out a giggle. ‘Sure! Course. Right, come on. We need to get you both set up. Ben, if you could go with Anna here.’ As if by magic, a glamorous and jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman in a clingy wrap dress, with shiny blonde swishy hair cut into a cute long bob, was by our side. She guided Ben off with one swoop of her clipboard and flick of a tanned wrist. I didn’t get the chance to even say good luck or ask what was happening as Blaise then led me down a corridor and shooed me into a darker but thankfully quieter room.
‘Here we go. Just in here,’ he said, looking at his chunky plastic watch at the same time.
‘Oh… I…’ I stuttered before he winked and shut the door. What the hell was going on?
‘Georgia?’ A man’s voice with a soft Scottish lilt startled me, making me spin round to locate the source. The voice was coming from behind a large, kidney-shaped desk, and hidden behind three ginormous computer screens was a man in his mid-fifties peering down his wiry spectacles at me. His thick beard was peppered with greys, less London hipster and more kindly grandfather, and his lips had curled into a wide smile through this bushy facial hair. ‘Come and take a seat.’
He wafted his hand at the two sofas and got up to sit on one himself. ‘I take it you’ve been offered a cup of tea?’
I shook my head and stayed planted in the same position. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘I am sorry about that. Those kids out there have lost the art of good manners. Unless it comes with a whizzy app or a hashtag, they’re not interested.’ He shook his head at the youth of today and picked up a phone on the cluttered desk.
I smiled, starting to warm to this man who looked like a funky Father Christmas in his checked shirt and Levi’s.
‘Hello, Dana, can we get a cup of…’ He glanced up at me to get my order.
‘Tea please. No sugar,’ I said, finally finding my voice.
‘Make that two cups of tea, no sugar. Thanks.’ He replaced his phone and pointed to the sofas again. ‘Please take a seat as we wait for our drinks. You can take your coat off if you like; it’s bitter outside today, isn’t it? Although, thank goodness that snow didn’t last as long as everyone was expecting it to. Oh, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself! My name’s Jerry, by the way.’ He stretched out a thick, rough palm. His hands looked like they’d actually been used to a day’s hard work, unlike the soft, pudgy palms of Blaise.
‘Hi. Georgia. Nice to meet you. Sorry if I seem a little lost, I’ve never been to a TV studio before and I didn’t really have any idea of what one would be like,’ I admitted, awkwardly shrugging off my coat.
Jerry laughed, reminding me