Sophie shook her head. “No, but I don’t understand the rest of it. There are a few similar sets of files. One seems to relate to pensions. From the look of it, Laura, Tom and three other officials have pension arrangements which give them far better benefits than anyone else.”

“How do you mean? I thought there were legal limits on pensions? That you couldn’t get more than two-thirds of your final salary?” Lindsay said.

“I don’t know about that. But how does a lump sum payment of an index-linked £50,000 sound to you?” Sophie said.

Lindsay looked as shaken as she felt. “How could they?” she gasped. “How could they say the things they said about the ‘rights of working people’ and then rob us blind? Shit, Soph, how long had this been going on?”

Sophie handed her the print-out, and pointed to the relevant sections as she spoke. “See for yourself. Two of the arrangements, Laura’s and Malcolm Bridgnorth’s, started eight years ago, then two years later, Alan Porter joined them. Two years after that, Barney Price. Then, just after he was elected general secretary of the JU, Tom Jack enters the frame.”

Lindsay shook her head. “I don’t understand. Malcolm left the JU five years ago. But Alan and Barney are okay guys. I mean, they’re not crooks, no way. What the hell’s going on here? Is that it?” she asked Sophie, apprehension in her eyes.

“Nope. There’s another set of figures relating to strike pay. It looks like every time you had a strike, an extra body was added to the tally. There’s no documentary evidence as to who was pocketing the cash, but it was definitely being paid out to someone.” Sophie gently took the print-out from her lover and folded it up. She stood up and held Lindsay in her arms.

“I just can’t believe it,” Lindsay said. “I feel physically sick at the thought of it all. Let’s get out of here, Sophie. We’re going to have to do some more digging, but not here. I can’t face finding out any more of the truth.”

Sophie swam up into consciousness after only five hours sleep. She rolled over to cuddle up to Lindsay, only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. She ungummed one eye and read the clock. 08:23. “Oh God, Gordon. Oh no, where are you now?” she mumbled, dragging her stiff body out of bed and across the room to the bathroom. She stumbled through the door into a glare of fluorescent light and the improbably floral smell of hotel bubble bath. Lindsay lay stretched out full length, up to her chin in foam, Walkman clamped to her ears, head nodding almost imperceptibly in time to the music.

Sophie pulled one earplug out and bellowed, “Couldn’t you sleep?”