I smile my best public-facing smile at him and give Maz a half-hearted little finger wave. Then – clinging for dear life onto my bag to keep me upright – I make a beeline for the green room.
A few people are dotted around on sofas, looking5am-glazed and buried in newspapers or their phones. I dump my bag by the espresso machine, making myself an extra strong coffee. I feel hungover even though I didn’t drink much last night. I head straight for the make-up room, my head spinning. I love the beauty team and today I urgentlyneedthe beauty team.
‘Morning, Jools! Hiya, Andi!’ I burst into the small, well-lit room, mirrors glinting off every wall. ‘How are you gorgeous creatures today?’ I take a long sip of my coffee, feeling the joyous placebo effect of caffeine coursing its way through my nervous system.
‘Liv?’ Juliette – Jools – blinks at me with horror. ‘You’re here?’ Andi stares at me vacantly, a strange look on her face.
I tilt my head at them and for half a second I’m certain I must’ve got my days mixed up. Am I here on my day off?
No, it’s definitely a Friday, I know it is. And the taxi picked me up; it wouldn’t have been at my house at 4.30am if this wasn’t one of my scheduled appearance days.
So why are Jools and Andi looking at me like that? Like they can’t believe I’m here?
Oh shit, maybe someone called to cancel me this morning. My phone died last night at the restaurant, and in the aftermath-y, up-all-night hysteria, I didn’t plug it in. I wanted to ask the driver to charge it for me on the way in, but he was being such an oddball. Too dazzled by my Shellac, it would seem.
‘Er, I am here, yes!’ I laugh awkwardly. ‘And I haven’t slept at all. Please save me from my own eyebags. They are likewet bin liners under my skin.’ The pair exchange a look of concern but then Jools gestures at her chair.
‘Of course, sweetheart, have a seat.’
I do so, pulling out my phone and charger. ‘Do you mind if I plug this in?’
Jools nods towards the socket on the wall and prepares her make-up station. I settle in, readying myself for the usual soothing routine.
Jools is probably my favourite person at the studio, though I’m dimly aware it’s part of her job to make everyone feel good. With nervous guests passing through this room just minutes before they have to go on air in front of millions of judgemental viewers, the head of make-up is required to be everyone’s calming best friend. She’s got a natural maternal energy, with her short, grey hair and big, knitted cardigans – and I always feel a million times better when I sit in her chair.
Her breath is cool and minty on my face as she gets to work, slathering on pounds and pounds of primer. I take her in for a moment, wondering like I always do, how her glasses don’t get steamed up when she has to be so up-close-and-personal with people’s hot breath every day.
Jools is, like,knownfor her glasses. She has a wide variety but they’re always huge, always brightly coloured, and always sparkly. She has 400,000 followers on Instagram because of them, with people declaring her to be a style icon on a near-daily basis, but she confided in me once that she just copied Elton John’s look from the late 1970s.
I close my eyes, the familiarity of her movements making my breath slow.
I’ve been doing this gig onMorning Teafor two years now, and I love it. Even the early mornings! There’s nothing like that burst of nerves and adrenaline that floods me when I sit on that sofa, ready to go live. Plus, Jools isn’t the only lovely person who works here, everyone is great, really, really gr—
‘Olivia?’
Ugh, apart from him.
I open my eyes to see the show producer eyeballing me in the mirror.
Spencer Tate. Textbook narcissist. A prime example of nepotism in action – his dad owns the studio – and just a really horrible little man on a power trip to end all power trips.Andhe’s younger than me! Yuck.
He’s framed now by the doorway, his massive pores enlarged by the intense lighting. He’s wearing aPeaky Blinderscap, which is so sad because even the worst ofPeaky Blinders’fans have at last realised what fashion victims they were being, and stopped wearing them.
‘Spencer,’ I reply evenly, as Jools works scrupulously on my bin liner eye circles, ignoring the boss in her work space.
Nobody likes him.
‘Can I see you for a minute, Liv?’ he says coolly, and I nod.
‘Of course. Can it wait ten minutes? I’m just having my make-up done.’ Jools lightly strokes some kind of magical powder across my cheeks and nose, pausing for a momentto push the Elton John glasses from her bridge to the top of her head.
The reality star is suddenly in the door frame behind Spencer. He shoves his way past and into the seat beside me. ‘All right, birds!’ he crows, ironically sounding quite a lot like a bird as he addresses the room. ‘Time to make me even hotter, yeah, if it’s even possible!’ He laughs and even this noise sounds like it’s straight out of a David Attenborough documentary.
I catch Andi’s eyes across the room and she rolls them, then turns to the boy, smiling brightly. ‘You’re onMorning Teatoday, are you love?’ she asks, so nicely, because she has been well trained by Jools. She picks up some brushes and asks carefully rehearsed questions about the reality star’s recent bookings. He seems to be immensely enjoying the 15-minutes of fame reality circuit, boasting about slightly sad club appearances and his massive new TikTok following.
Spencer steps properly into the room.
Hovering a few inches away from my face, Jools moves on to my eyelashes. She coats the left eye with thick black mascara, and I can feel my face coming back to life. I always feel more like myself with make-up on, which might not make sense, but is a fact nonetheless.
