‘Let me get this straight,’ Dominic mutters, crunching a paper bag into his hand. ‘Just so we’re all on the same page. You’re telling 47me you want full sex-slave technicolour? Another victim of sex trafficking? On tape by the end of today? Simple as that, is it? It’s not enough that we’re exposing a national trafficking ring?’

I squeeze my cup. I don’t care if it burns. Even though I blurred it at the time, suddenly all I can see is every strand of bleached hair framing every cell of the girl’s hollow face. The girl we couldn’t get a clean shot of so we could show everyone else.

‘Oh Dominic, I’m not sure I’d put it quite like that. But yes, I think it falls flat without someone other than you instructing the viewer on what these girls are going through. It misses the point entirely. We just hear you telling us, rather than showing us, what’s going on. You don’t need me to point out it’s not as simple as a headline, do you? We have to compel people to watch, to remember, and ideally to act … not just read and crumple a few hours later.’

More silence. I swallow hard, tea burning a path down my throat. Now. It’s now, Marie! Don’t prepare. Begin! I cough, just to soften the ground.

‘Olivia, I could have another go at the Salvation Army. We might have better luck with the branches outside London. They’ll potentially be more interested in raising their profile than the ones here. If we can get a suburban branch of the Salvation Army some national exposure, for example…’

I don’t even jump as Dominic bangs his hands on the table, howling.

‘Do you think we haven’t already tried? Olivia, are you honestly suggesting we hold this back because you think it merits hearing from the Salvation Army, of all the more absurd sentences I have ever uttered in my life? And lest you forget, I’m also supposed to be sealing this deal sometime soon with actual money, unless you want to watch me have my eyeballs removed with a spoon.’