She looked at him, full-on, that look she did. He was two pints down on an empty stomach, so it came out as a giggle. ‘You? Settle? You’re not going to settle down.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry. I just meant – well, it doesn’t seem likely, given your … your history. We’re – well – I think if you’d wanted to settle you probably would have done. That’s all.’

‘What are you saying, Neil? If you’re not interested in the story, I’ll take it to someone else. Plenty of journalists with open minds and the vision to see where this could go.’

Brian McGuire, one of the old school, had chosen that moment to stotter past them to the toilet, the flaps of his grubby raincoat swinging about him.

‘A lovers’ tiff, eh?’ He stood behind Neil, drumming thick hands on his shoulders. ‘Just you come and have a chat with me, sweetheart. Just you come. And you will.’

Clio glared at him till he turned and left them to it, wheezing out an oh-ho-ho as he pinballed down the corridor.

‘You’ve been at this rag too long, Neil. It’s killing your spirit. What are you going to do – file stories on love-rat local councillors and keep cashing the cheques? I’m disappointed in you.’

She stood up, began gathering her many bags about her.

‘Clio. Come on. Look. Sorry. Hey. Where are you staying tonight?’

‘I’ll crash on someone’s sofa.’

‘Well, I’ve got to get back to it, but why don’t you take my keys, head back to the flat, have a bath? We can talk about this later.’

‘I’ll be fine, Neil. I’ve got plans.’

She always had plans.

By now, someone would have found her, surely. Four hours ago she was alive and sending emails, and he couldn’t have been the only person she’d contact. She wouldn’t still be living by herself; there would be flatmates, a man, maybe?

Was she dead, then? All that hugeness, that person, that Clio, had it just stopped?

Nine hours later he woke up to an alarm he vaguely remembered setting, under what had been Alan the sports editor’s desk on the abandoned second floor. It wasn’t the first time: the cleaners only went in weekly now, so he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. He coughed, inhaled stale ethanol from his own breath and felt his gag reflex jerk. Early shift started in five minutes; he had time to stop by his desk and grab the toothbrush he hoped he still had in one of the drawers.

‘All right, mate? Need you in here.’