‘How was the suit? Just the thing? I thought it would be. I’ll send it to the cleaner’s. You’ll be needing it, I shouldn’t wonder. It’s a classic. Who were you interviewing exactly? How is it in London these days? Meg says you never see a white face from one week to another. She went up for Mama Mia with the church last November. You remember, when I couldn’t go because of flu?’

She’s constructing her own narrative, but for once Melissa doesn’t rise.

She eats fast.

‘Mum, I have to go and see the editor right away. Thanks for breakfast. No, no more, I’m on a diet.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since this morning.’

Her father beams at her fondly from across the table. As if she’s made a little jest. If she were to be murdered, he would say after the trial, Melissa was our special little angel. She lit up our lives. Forty years in jail is not enough for that monster.

Now he says, ‘You don’t need to diet, my lovely.’

On the bus she can’t help noticing that her fellow burghers have a rather lumpy, placid appearance. But then, so does she. Still, she’s travelled the road to Damascus.

The editor is in his office with the smoke rising. For some reason he’s wearing a tweed overcoat. She has noticed that his fingers are stained. He opens the window and stubs out his cigarette.

‘Terrible vice. Right, tell me all.’

Melissa gets out the recorder.

‘Do you want to hear this first? I recorded the whole conversation.’

‘No, I’ll do that privately later.’

‘OK, well, I made notes after he had gone and I transcribed the recording on the train. I tried to summarise.’

She hopes he is impressed by her efficiency. On the recording she sounds very unsure and nervous.

‘He wants to speak to you, to get your assurance of confidentiality and a guarantee that you will publish before he supplies the full information.’

‘I think it will be best if we run your blog first, if there’s anything solid in his information, and publish later when there’s a reaction.’

‘He also thought the blog should come first.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘Not really.’

‘Because he wants to put as much distance between himself and the leak. If he works for the bank he can’t afford to be exposed as the source. That’s why he wants my assurance, because he knows that no journalist will reveal a source.’

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Tell your source that he can speak to me at 10 p.m. tonight and give him my new mobile number.’

‘Oh, I forgot, I can’t text him until he sends me his new phone number to use.’

‘OK. And I’ll take a little drive at lunchtime and listen to your recording.’

‘What about Mr MacCleod?’