Page 16 of Last Christmas in London

‘Sorry, love. I’ll be free for lunch soon. I just have this one client who’s a nightmare and I need to get the project over the finish line so I get paid before Christmas. And then Alex is being a right arseho— He’s, erm, been off work this week with Alfie, who’s got chickenpox. His nursery will be ground zero for the plague that turns us all into zombies, I swear! So I’ll probably be working from home through to the weekend as Alex needs a break… Do you fancy dinner round ours soon actually, once Alfie’s not contagious? Alex would probably like that. Adult company and all. Anyway, I’ve just got one more email to send, then I’ll be heading home. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Love you lots!’

She was back at the office by the time I texted her the following morning at 8.00.

I didn’t know whether it was time to worry or not yet. She and I were both ‘workaholics’ but, out of the two of us, I always thought Megan had the work-life balance under her belt. She had a husband, a toddler, and an active gym membership; you don’t maintain those by working every hour.

I had to admit, to myself if not out loud, that it was frustrating to not be seeing them much. They had busy lives, and I worked odd hours, but it was my last Christmas in London, for a while at least. And it had been so long since I had spent this much time in the UK, but neither of them seemed to be putting much effort into seeing me. It was lonely spending every evening in my Travelodge watching Gladiators on ITV while eating yet another Pret sandwich – their Christmas range was on point this year.

Instead, for the days that the two of them were out of commission, and I was free from work, I made tons of videos for my TikTok to keep me occupied and my viewers sated. Energetic day-in-the-life clips, voice-over food reviews, everything brimming with festive cheer. I kept it light and positive; after nearly a decade in TV, I knew how quickly negativity could destroy a career and I was terrified all my hard work with Pim would be wasted by one stupid decision online. But what’s safer or more joyful than Christmas content?

I was like a child in Hamleys in every video, eyes wide and glowing with excitement as I shared my festive solo adventures. My followers seemed to be enjoying it:

It’s my dream to spend Christmas in London. But a bit pricey to fly from Melbourne! Love seeing all the sights on your channel.

Loving this new content. Can’t wait to see more!

What’s the TV industry like at Christmas? Are the shows filmed live, or are they all pre-recorded in August? Would love to see what brand of decorations they use. Have you decorated for Christmas yet?

My thumb would hover over the screen, fluttering through the queries and requests, gaining new content ideas as I went. Most companies were happy for me to include some elements of behind-the-scenes, if it promoted the show, but some preferred the only cameras to be the ones shooting the actual show.

I always tried to get as much Christmas content as possible – as we did film it in the summer – well in advance, to capture the cheer, the fairy lights and snowscape. The actual Christmas period was usually much emptier, filled with gaps between jobs, airports, and hotel rooms dressed with napkins and paper chains.

No viewer wants to see that and I didn’t want to film it. Yet this Christmas, my engagement rate had risen by five per cent – my largest jump yet. Filming live content, editing it, and ushering Pim around the city, had largely kept me busy in early December. It was a useful distraction from Josh’s revelation about Zach.

He’d been a bit distant after telling me about him, but things had finally begun to settle into our old rhythms. He hadn’t offered any further details about his relationship when we met up, and I didn’t press for them, though I could tell he was itching to talk.

I wasn’t judging him, not exactly. Zach was the one truly in the wrong, as far as I was concerned. But I couldn’t bring myself to support Josh’s role in the affair. It wasn’t my business, but adultery was hard to condone, no matter how much I loved my friend and wanted to see him happy. In my mind, this situation was never going to end well.

Still, December was racing on, and my work had to be my focus.

‘Pim, tell us, how are the preparations for your one-night show going?’ The radio presenter’s voice crackled through my headphones as I stood just outside the booth watching as Pim was quizzed on a BBC radio show.

‘Oh, it’s going so well! We’ve just announced that Emily Heston is chairing the event, which is so brilliant. She’s fantastic.’

‘Emily is wonderful. We’ve had her on the show a few times.’

‘She’s such a talent in the industry,’ Pim interjected. ‘I’m always so sad to hear that the community still alienates homosexuals. Emily is married to a delightful woman, and she told me the negative impact coming out had on her initial career. Well, not today, Satan! She can chair a show with me any day of the week.’

The radio presenter laughed heartily, completely unaware that I had fed Pim details on Emily, using flash cards, in the taxi to the studio that morning.

‘Pim Hardcastle, everyone! As ever, an utter delight to have you on the show.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Pim beamed, looking radiant in an orange two-piece with her striking black hair in a perfectly styled messy bun.

‘Tickets for Pim’s O’Clock are on sale now, but they’re going fast! Get yours soon, folks!’

‘Today, preferably,’ Pim added, laughing in a slight falsetto tone that I could tell meant that she was almost done with the charade. ‘If I may be so cheeky.’

‘Indeed you may. Pim Hardcastle, everybody! Stay tuned for the latest news from Alexandra Holmes and an update on the weather from Steven Ainsley! For now, I’m Thomasina Michaels and this is BBC Five Live.’

‘And we’re out,’ the producer said from behind the door. I saw Pim and Thomasina removing their headphones from inside the booth.

The door opened.

‘No, thank you!’ Pim was wringing Thomasina’s hand as the producer barged past and began re-setting the room with new scripts, papers, and talking points.

‘Always wonderful to see you.’ Thomasina smiled but her attention for Pim was waning.

‘And you.’ Pim let the assistant begin to direct us out of the building. The BBC offices do enjoy shepherding you in and out like you’re a bomb about to explode.