Leanne cast a glance around the boat. Hopefully her editor wouldn’t ask to use the bathroom, which was full of rubbish bags she had been planning to take to the marina’s disposal point at some point today, possibly. It was mostly empty pizza boxes and wine bottles. She grabbed a can of air freshener and sprayed generously before attending to her guest. It was only as she was opening the doors that she realised she was still in her pyjamas, and stained ones at that. She raked her fingers through her unwashed hair.

‘How did you get into the marina?’

‘Morning to you too,’ Mal said as he climbed down the short set of steps into the boat. Balanced in one hand were two coffee cups with the Raven Brook logo stamped on the front. ‘These are courtesy of Dianne.’

Leanne took a proffered cup, but kept her scowl. ‘I’m surprised she let you through.’

Mal patted the pocket of his waterproof jacket. ‘Press pass. I told her you were expecting me.’

‘I wasn’t. You never come here,’ she said. She remained standing. ‘Why are you here, Mal?’

Her editor unzipped his jacket. ‘Phew, it’s warm in here. That log burner kicks out some heat.’

Mal looked at the aforementioned log burner as if it were the most fascinating piece of archaic technology he had ever seen. It gave Leanne the chance to catch up with her thoughts. Mal never made house calls, which meant it had to be bad news and, even though that was something the Courier thrived upon, this was going to be personal. She briefly considered if he was about to turn her sabbatical into a permanent arrangement, but Leanne’s anniversary articles had paid dividends for the paper. That couldn’t be it. She shuddered despite the heat that enthralled Mal. The fire.

‘It’s the public inquiry, isn’t it? You’ve seen the findings.’

The lines around Mal’s eyes deepened, then softened. ‘Why don’t we sit down?’

‘Tell me,’ she said, but in that moment, she knew. Not trusting herself to hold hot liquid, she placed her coffee cup on a shelf. ‘Phillipa’s got away with it, hasn’t she? I told you they’d cover it up! I knew it! I fucking knew it!’

Mal set down his cup too. He went to put an arm on Leanne’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Her cheeks burned, her eyes blazed, and any tears that threatened were eviscerated by her anger. She would not cry.

‘The report is embargoed until tomorrow, but yes, I’ve seen it,’ Mal said. ‘Leanne, it’s not a whitewash. There is the possibility of legal action against some, but—’

‘But not Phillipa.’

‘There will be lessons learnt.’

‘Lessons?’ she mocked. ‘How does that help any of the families who lost the people they love?’