‘I’ve been covering for them,’ I say, dipping my voice as the train slows. ‘Ever since they found out that I’d got myself a job in the news business. A tap here, a nod there … the odd threat to my identity papers if I didn’t. It seemed so harmless at the start, and I’d worked so hard. Finally, I had a piece of a life to cling to, keeping all the nightmares bubbling so low they didn’t infect everything else. All they wanted was to know what was being talked about and that was it. Every time Andromeda poked at the headlines again, they wanted to know what new information did Nine have, and where was their investigation going. I had no reason to think it was much more than backscratching, like Jemima’s always told me. And it was rare, until recently—’

I jump as Dominic’s phone hits my foot, sliding into the gap 230where the train floor ends and the exit door begins, his hands still clasped round each other like it’s still between them.

‘All you need to do is come with me,’ I say, bending to pick it up, pressing it back into his palm as he stares at me, tears dried to his face in streaks. ‘I said you’d have to trust me, OK?’

‘You’re…’ His words die in his throat as his bloodshot eyes search my face. ‘You’re working for them?’

‘I guess I was…’ I say, pulling my phone from my pocket, the word ‘Medusa’ flashing on its tiny blue screen. ‘Once upon a time, anyway. Like I say, it seemed so reasonable at first. Remember, I had nothing until they set me up as Marie Grant. Literally everything I depend on to live was – well, still is – in their hands, not mine. When I started to resist, they made it about Kayleigh, even though I’d lost that trail years ago. She went into the bowels of the system and never came out, as if it wasn’t bad enough what happened to her in the first place. But I’m not doing it anymore. And not ever again. Now, it’s about us, and about Nine. We’re going to bury them instead. They can’t hide from what we’ve got … There’s enough to build a mountain over them. They’ll never be able to climb out from underneath. And we won’t even need the ball cam.’

And then, just then, as the train pulls into the station, I feel my face suddenly lift into a smile, my cheeks straining, eyes crinkling, energy firing around my body into the tips of my fingers, the ends of my toes. I’ve said everything, and I’m still Marie. Carly blows kisses to my head’s inner audience, dancing and hugging herself with glee.

231

Carly ~ Deptford ~ 2002

‘Morning, love,’ Frank shouts.