‘Just now.’ She made a point of sliding off her jacket. ‘I was going to make a hot drink. Can I get you one?’

‘That can wait.’

Mal lumbered back to his office, taking it for granted that Leanne would follow. She did, and when he came to an unexpected halt, she almost walked into him. ‘Actually, Frankie, I might need you too.’

By the time Frankie had closed the door, Mal was back in his chair with his hands behind his head. His bloodshot eyes bored into Leanne. ‘I can only presume your exposé on Claudia Rothwell has gathered pace considering you’ve let the ball drop on all your other assignments.’

Leanne sat down on the battered sofa. ‘I suppose it has taken some interesting turns,’ she said, and was about to give Mal the edited highlights containing all of the highs and none of the lows, but he was ahead of her.

‘Why don’t you start by explaining why you felt it necessary to pay Phillipa Montgomery a visit?’

Leanne made sure not to glance at Frankie, who had joined her on the sofa. Her colleague wouldn’t have been the one to tell Mal, and Leanne didn’t want Mal to know she had been aware of the plan.

‘Has she been in touch?’ she asked.

‘Not directly, no, but I had an interesting chat with Evelyn,’ he said, referring to one of the Courier’s owners, who was a particularly close friend of Phillipa’s. ‘She wondered if we could do a feature on Phillipa, something that might seed a change in attitude, revert perceptions back to the pre-disaster era so she can leave Sedgefield with her head held high.’

Mal didn’t need to explain that when Evelyn made a suggestion, it was a direct order.

‘Evelyn seems to think you would be the best person to write it,’ Mal continued. ‘She’s under the impression that Phillipa trusts you.’

‘Technically, it shouldn’t matter if Phillipa trusts Leanne or not,’ Frankie chipped in. ‘Assuming you want her to write an honest observation and not a piece of propaganda.’

Frankie had tensed. She was squaring up for a fight to protect Leanne from doing something that her conscience wouldn’t allow.

Mal rubbed a hand over his face as he straightened up. ‘Anyone else want a drink?’ he asked, opening a drawer. He picked up a half-empty bottle of whisky and added a splash to his stained coffee cup.

‘It’s not a problem,’ said Leanne, surprising them both. ‘I’ll write a piece about her.’

Mal knocked back his whisky and topped up his cup before putting away the bottle. ‘Evelyn would especially like you to focus on the strength of the Montgomerys’ marriage. Something about how they have been a constant in each other’s lives, blah, blah, blah.’ He was testing her. ‘Apparently there was a rumour about an affair with Declan Gallagher. Heard anything?’