‘Who’s she?’ Dominic doesn’t even look at me as he asks, he just stares at Jemima. Dominic Greene, home affairs editor, Nine News’s bright and shiny new prospect, according to Laurie. A man on a mission to hold the Metropolitan police to account, with a couple of exclusives already in hand to prove it. Sure, he’s been shooting into an open goal after the London bombings, but where television talent is concerned you can’t have everything, apparently. If there’s a functioning brain on top of looking good … I shove away thoughts of the Gazette and its mess of broken desks, columns of yellow newspapers, chunky old computer monitors. If I can get comfortable there, then I can get comfortable here. The open-plan newsroom with its endless lines of workstations feels so wide around us that we could even be outside. I can’t even see the walls at either end.

‘This is Marie,’ Jemima says again, turning to me with an encouraging smirk. ‘And how have you enjoyed your internship so far? What have you been working on?’

I blink at her, jumping as someone barges past in a hurry. She knows exactly what I’ve been doing since I got here. There’s been no opportunity to work on anything but the London attacks and their aftermath until now. She brought me in, did the interview and has been in charge of me ever since.’

‘Golly, an intern?’ Dominic barely throws me a second look as he brushes down a perfectly suited arm.

‘I’ve really gone up in the world, haven’t I? An intern instead of an actual qualified journalist with experience. Albeit an intern your producer has staked her reputation on. Sorry – Marie, is it? 256Jonas here seems to think we are in need of someone to wipe our arses for us when, in fact, what I need is voluminous amounts of grunt work, and fast … not to mention discreet—’

‘What are you working on?’ His eyes widen as I interrupt him. Here comes Laurie again. Telly’s nothing compared to print. Fairies, the lot of them. Half the time it’s just about what they look like. Putting themselves in the frame. Oh, don’t look at me like that just because I have a face for radio…

‘This is proper investigative work,’ he snaps. ‘Details don’t come cheap … Now, don’t tell me, you studied detective work in journalism school? After getting a first at Cambridge, presumably? And you speak five languages? None of which are plain English?’

Jemima socks him, rolling her eyes at me. I flinch as someone else pushes past.

‘I’m sorry about him. It’ll pass, I can assure you. He’s usually quite charming.’

‘I studied grunt work, actually,’ I say, staring straight at him. ‘With a bit of discretion on the side. Hand it over.’