I jumped half a foot as a voice spoke in my ear.

‘Rose!’

Helen Kelsey. I forced a smile. ‘I’ll call you back, Xav.’

‘Before it’s too late,’ he drawled, and rang off.

Too late.

I summoned a smile for Helen; I wished my heart would stop beating so very fast.

Chapter Two

I arrived at the paper at eleven, which meant they’d all be on a fag-break out the back. I needed to busy myself: to stay in the present. Making myself a cup of strong tea, I checked the boards in the faint hope there might be a half-decent story for once.

‘Edna Brown’s prize-winning vegetables sabotaged.’ Next to this someone had scrawled ‘Watch out for her melons’ in green marker.

‘High School Musical comes to Cheltenham.’

‘Five sheep savaged near Ostley Woods – return of the Burford Beast?’

The only story that looked remotely exciting was apparent police interest in a local MP and an allegation of bribery. I vaguely remembered him from Alicia’s school fête, a sweaty, corpulent man more interested in the refreshment stall than the children.

Tina banged through the doors. Ex-Fleet Street herself, but sick of the horrendous hours and the in-fighting, she was happy and efficient running this little paper.

‘Hello, stranger.’ She slammed a pile of files down on her immaculate desk. ‘How’s tricks?’

‘Tricks are OK, thanks, Tina.’

‘How’s the gorgeous husband?’

Everyone always loved James. The life and soul. ‘Good, thanks. Pretty busy with the relaunch of the club.’ I pointed to the board. ‘What’s Johnson being investigated for?’

‘Not sure exactly,’ she shrugged. ‘Something to do with taking some kind of bung, I think.’

‘Really?’ I perked up.

‘The by-election’s coming up. All sorts are stirring.’

‘Shall I take a look?’ I said carefully. I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I needed some kind of spur.

‘I think Richard’s on it, thanks, love.’ She booted her old computer up. It made a sound like it was dying inside. ‘Why don’t you take a look at Edna Brown’s lovely vegetables?’

‘Oh, right.’ I suppressed the sudden urge to scream. ‘Yes, of course.’

Richard Sawton rushed through the door and scooped his car keys off the desk.

‘Hey Rosie,’ he winked, his long face almost excited, ‘fancy a spot of doorstepping?’

‘I was going to talk to Edna Brown about her—’

‘Fuck Edna Brown.’

‘I’d really rather not,’ I grinned.

‘Come on. The word is Johnson’s going to get picked up again today.’ He was almost out the door by now. ‘I could do with a second opinion.’

I glanced at Tina; she waved us onwards with her trusty green Pentel. Grabbing my bag I followed Richard, feeling something I hadn’t for the longest time. Adrenalin.