‘Of course we will,’ Jemima says, fumbling with her bag and pockets. ‘Do you get how much work we’re about to have to do? Every source outside the newsroom is about to get cadged for even the tiniest amount of intel. No one will care about a bloody drinks bill.’

She passes me a bank card.

‘I thought we didn’t pay for info,’ her friend mutters as I swipe, head spinning.

‘Of course we don’t,’ she says, winking at me as I pass her card back. ‘Not with cold, hard cash anyway … Could I have a receipt please?’

‘Good job,’ Moe says from somewhere behind me. I spin round, heart sinking as I find him frowning at the loaded trolley waiting at the end of the aisle. ‘Wow. You girls must really be thirsty.’

‘That’s one way of putting it, I guess,’ the blonde mutters, scowling at him.

‘I know it looks absurd,’ Jemima says, straightening and smiling at Moe. ‘But we’ve got a newsroom full of journalists to keep awake for the foreseeable future. I hope you don’t mind if we borrow this trolley just to get the drinks down the road? I promise we’ll bring it straight back and if we don’t, here’s my card.’

I freeze as Moe beams back at her. Really?

‘No problem,’ he says, tucking her business card into the pocket above his manager badge. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. And I’m glad we can help, even if it’s just to fuel the press.’

I jump as Jemima plucks her credit card from between my fingers, winking at me before turning to thank him. 206

‘Just return it before dawn, if you can,’ he says as they clatter towards the doors. ‘And good luck!’

He waves as they disappear into the night. I am rooted to my seat with shock. Having to explain away a stolen shopping trolley is worse than having to account for missing bottles of wine.

‘Let’s get the newspapers done, come on,’ he says, turning back to me. ‘Darren can handle the tills for now. Everyone will want a paper as soon as they can get their hands on one.’

I follow him dumbly back through the shop, then the storeroom, finally out the back into the alley where the delivery truck is already backing into place. There’s not even a second to check whether the telly is still showing the burning towers.

‘How come you let them borrow the trolley?’ I say, blinking as my eyes adjust to the dark, the slow beeps of the reversing truck popping in my ears. ‘Won’t we get fined?’