Falling Off Air by Catherine Sampson

commented. The weather forecast predicted a sharp drop
     in temperature the next day and hazarded to speculate that autumn would now continue its more normal path downward into colder
     temperatures. We made the rest of the journey in silence. For the past year I had hardly set foot outside south London, and
     now, as dusk settled, I gazed out on the grandeur of the Thames and at the fairy-lit bridges. It didn't look like the city
     I lived in.
    We pulled up outside the Grosvenor House Hotel.
    “Nice frock,” Terry commented as I clambered out.
    I humphed. It felt all wrong, as though there'd been some horrible mix-up and I'd got someone else's clothes on. I couldn't
     believe I'd ever felt comfortable in anything but boots and jeans and layers of T-shirts and sweaters. I hadn't worn a dress
     since the third month of my pregnancy. The one I'd dug out of my wardrobe for this evening was navy silk, cut just above the
     knee, high at the throat, very simple. It hung looser on me than it had before, I guess I'd lost more weight than I'd realized.
     I'd wrapped a light woolen shawl around my shoulders. I waited as Terry handed the car keys to the valet, and saw Maeve arriving.
     She was clearly worried about that drop in temperature, because she carried a fur stole over one arm, like a lapdog.
    Inside, people had gathered in the bar and I saw that Maeve was in her element, networking like a fiend. She caught sight
     of me, saw with obvious relief that I was out of my jeans, and beckoned me over, introducing me to a rickety old man in a
     cummerbund.
    “I'm grooming Robin for the new ethics post,” she told him, patting at my silk-clad shoulder like a cat. “So you see, we are
     responding to your concerns.”
    The old man had sharp eyes, and they gave me an appraising glance before returning to Maeve.
    “We put the mink on your back, my dear,” he said in a shaky voice, “so you'd better be, don't you think?”
    Maeve laughed, a tinkling, nervy sound, and when he moved away, she patted the offending skin as though scolding it and whispered
     in my ear, “He meant they pay my wages, nothing more.”
    “Maeve, what do you mean you're grooming me?”
    “Well, I should have said you're grooming yourself,” she said, with another tense giggle. “Great haircut.”
    I took a deep breath. It crossed my mind that the redoubtable Maeve might be dabbling in illicit substances.
    “Maeve, I can't take this job, it's just not me. I just want to make programs.”
    She looked at me pityingly, then.
    “Maeve,” I tried again, sotto voce, unwilling to make a scene but suddenly overwhelmed by the urgency of the situation. “I'm
     guaranteed a job on return from maternity leave …”
    “And a rather long maternity leave it's been, hasn't it?” she threw back at me, waving her hand and flashing a smile at someone
     I recognized but couldn't place. “Besides, we've offered you a job. Now it's time to decide what your priorities are. Just
     don't embarrass me, Robin. I can't afford to have that happen.”
    Frustrated and angry, I stood and watched as she moved off through the crowd, air kissing anyone and everyone who crossed
     her path. At one point she lunged for a young man in a tailcoat only to realize at the last moment that he was a waiter. A
     media crowd is almost pathologically sociable. I could see a couple of uniformed hotel staff trying to usher people into the
     ballroom, but my colleagues were like a bunch of children in the playground, unwilling to go and sit down in the classroom
     where they'd have to stop chatting with their mates.
    I'd lost Terry, but then I saw him deep in conversation with one of his old cronies, heads together, backs fending off casual
     socializes. I spotted Suzette on one of the high chairs by the long black bar. Her back was to me, but I could see her face
     in a mirror. She was wearing a little black dress and pearls, with her long blond hair scraped back in a severe chignon and
     her face