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Chapters (53)
  1. The Source
  2. Dedication
  3. Contents
  4. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  5. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  6. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  7. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  8. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  9. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  10. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  11. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  12. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  13. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  14. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  15. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  16. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  17. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  18. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  19. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  20. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  21. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  22. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  23. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  24. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  25. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  26. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  27. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  28. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  29. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  30. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  31. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  32. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  33. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  34. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1998
  35. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  36. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  37. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  38. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  39. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  40. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  41. Marie ~ Just outside Warchester ~ 2006
  42. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  43. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  44. Carly ~ Deptford ~ 2002
  45. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  46. Marie ~ Deptford ~ 2004
  47. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  48. Marie ~ London ~ 2005
  49. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  50. Marie ~ London ~ Six months later
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  53. Copyright

‘Do you want this internship to really count? I can’t carry you, Marie. It’s not enough to have just jumped in over the London bombings and got your hands as dirty as possible. That is absolute base-level stuff – massive breaking news story, all hands to the pump, learn on the job and if you fuck it up, you’re out. That’s where the bar is in places like this. But now I am handing you an 258in with a reporter at editor level, putting a proper research project directly into your hands, and you’ve stopped nodding and smiling before you’ve even started?’

‘I don’t understand,’ I murmur, squinting into the distance after Dominic. The newsroom throbs around us, everyone trying to be the loudest in their corner.

‘You can’t shy away from the hard stuff. Just say yes, whatever, whenever, and then get it done, pronto. Don’t ask questions! You’ll have to find the answers yourself if you want to be taken seriously. He said human trafficking, didn’t he? Do you need me to show you a picture? You should never need to be told twice…’

‘Why would anyone go to the trouble of trafficking people across borders?’ I know I’m asking myself, even though she thinks I’m asking her.

‘I told you, no questions,’ she hisses, buttoning up her jacket. ‘Not even to me. Just make yourself useful, get it done, figure out what else needs doing, and then do that. No one’s got time around here for questions that don’t lead anywhere.’

She stalks off into the hum as I slide into a cubicle at the end of the news desk, adrenaline coursing as I fire up the computer. Like I will ever shy away from the hard stuff. It’s all I live for. I just don’t understand why anyone would bother trafficking people from hundreds of miles away. I guess it’s what happens when you can’t see past what’s going on just past your nose.

I think about her, just for a second, just to test myself, conjuring her face, her toys, her smile, even her laugh. These girls’ stories are different enough to mine, I don’t need to read them to know that. But they haven’t figured on someone like me coming for them, have they?

I smile as the computer flashes, like it’s smiling right back at me. And then I swallow the acid and get to work.

259

Marie ~ London ~ 2006