‘Cheers,’ he grunts, eyes on the screen. I trot to the kitchen, a pokey little room next to the copiers on the side wall, not much more than a sink, fridge, microwave and a few wonky cupboards full of a bunch of chipped mugs. There’s a single hook on the back of the door that no one ever uses, where I leave my coat. A full pot of stale-smelling coffee is still simmering on the pad underneath the filter. It must have been a long night here too, I think, filling two cups and setting a fresh round on the go before heading back out. Percolating, I think. Per-co-lay-ting. That’s what they said it was doing when I asked.

‘Ta,’ Andy grunts, peering up at me from his computer as I hand him a steaming cup. ‘Sorry, but I don’t know your—’

‘I’m just helping out,’ I say, cutting him off before I have to answer. It still feels forced, no matter how hard I try to relax into saying it. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with today?’

I force myself to hold his gaze as he frowns, itching at his hands. They are all flaky with something, probably to do with being junkie-thin. That’s why I always ask him first. Junkies will never 233hurt anyone that feeds their habit, and Andy’s was obvious from the off. Coffee and news.

‘Are you the new apprentice?’ He blows smoke over his shoulder.

‘Not exactly,’ I say, folding my arms. I wish I still had my coat. ‘I’m hoping to be soon, though. So if there’s anything you need help with, anything at all, I’d be glad to…’

‘Balls,’ he interrupts, leaning forward to duck his head below the top of his monitor. ‘That fucking toe-rag…’ Out of the corner of my eye I can see Kevin shrinking into his chair too.

‘How much fucking longer do you need?’ Laurie’s shouts cut over the hum in the room before he’s even standing next to us. I tense as he arrives at the copydesk, nervous energy sparking off him like a live circuit. ‘Do you think I haven’t even read the damn thing? I’ve signed it off … and I’m the editor, not the fucking tea lady. And how many times do I have to tell you that you can’t smoke in here, Andy. We’re a millennium past 1988…’

‘We’re almost there, aren’t we?’ Andy says, coughing and peering down the line of cubicles at Kevin as he crumples a packet of cigarettes into his hand. Fury pricks my neck as I remember how Ma used to do that every time she tried to give up. They cost so much … I shake my head violently so she disappears, right as Laurie smacks a hand on to the desk.