‘Oh, come on,’ he interrupts, swinging his feet out of the way so he can plant his elbows on the desk instead. ‘Really? You can’t win if you don’t play, Marie. Don’t prepare, begin! You know that. It’s an internship at a national news network … our state broadcaster, no less. Hundreds of yuppies will apply, stuffed penguins in suits with trust funds so high up their backsides they can’t walk straight. In fact, that might explain why they are faxing all the local press. There must be something in it. Or maybe they have finally got tired of plums in everyone’s mouths.’

I shiver reflexively. Plums in their mouths?

‘Think about it. If you had a mouthful of plums you would sound like them too…’

I start, and stare back at him, craggy face faded and yellow in the windowless lamplight like old newspaper. I didn’t think I’d said anything.

‘Fine, I’ll apply. But only if you read this.’ I nudge the papers in my hand over the fax on the desk.

Laurie grabs them even as he glares at me. ‘What the hell is it?’

‘They’re reopening the Damilola Taylor investigation—’

‘And you think you’re the first to tell me?’

‘No, I—’

‘Shut up for a minute, will you?’

I bite back the start of a smile as he reads the page in front of him. I knew I just had to get him to the headline. It turns out there were blood spots all over the two thugs the police arrested at the time and then released without charge only days later. Blood spots so large that even now they can be seen with the naked eye. Vital scientific data that didn’t even need a microscope to pick it up. It’s reappeared as if by magic.

‘You wrote this? All of it?’ The page droops from his fingers, Laurie looking at me like I’ve just smacked him in the face with it. 248

‘Well, it sounds more like a coverup than new forensic evidence to me.’

I jump as he laughs, hooting and cackling like a mad parrot.

‘Jesus wept, girl. And you wonder why we’re having this conversation … Just go and apply for the damn internship, would you? You’ve got a portfolio a yard long. Far be it from me to suggest Damilola’s murder was anything other than horrendous, but it certainly did you a favour.’

I shiver again, Jemima’s voice chiming in my head. Right place, right time. I’ve spent so long finding myself in the wrong place it’s hard to ever believe there is a right one. But that’s Carly, I remind myself. Marie’s been in the right place the whole time. She climbed up and out of the supermarket and into the Deptford Gazette with no help at all.