‘It’s just an interview,’ I say, trying not to turn my head as we pull into traffic. ‘Sorry, it’s just I get a bit nauseous if I don’t look straight ahead…’ Nor-zee-us. I still can’t say it right. ‘Her name’s Beata. She’s a victim of sex trafficking. The Salvation Army have set it up … She wants to tell us her story, but I’m not sure she realises her face will be on camera yet. They know that’s the plan but are more interested in the exposure they will get on national television.’

‘Hey that’s a good story!’ I flush as I see Mary smile in the rear view mirror. ‘And the network’s committed to it? They will actually interrupt their blanket coverage of the West’s magnanimous takeover in the Middle East?’ I watch as her eyes roll.

‘Yes, and the best part is we’ve also infiltrated a trafficking ring,’ Dominic interrupts. ‘It’s taken us weeks. I even stashed a camera in my pants for some undercover filming.’ 56

‘In your pants? What were you filming, his dick?’ I try to snigger too as Mary’s smoke-hardened laugh echoes around the car.

‘Well I knew I’d get frisked,’ says Dominic. ‘And that’s one place those guys would never look. You wouldn’t believe how slick their operation is. They are moving girls around the country like knock-off cars … Tailed us out of there and everything.’

‘Good grief. There’s no need for warzone reporting if you can pull all that off. And what about you, honey? How long have you been at Nine?’ I flinch as Mary squeezes my shoulder.

‘Almost a year,’ I say. ‘I started just before the—’

‘You’ve been an intern for an entire year? Damn, we’re into child labour at the networks these days?’

‘I’m an assistant producer, actually,’ I say, indicator thumping over my heart. ‘I got a staff job pretty quickly after the London bombings…’

‘What?’ Dominic interrupts. ‘You’re on staff? When did that happen?’

‘A couple of months after the attacks. I was just lucky – my internship happened to coincide with a massive breaking news story and there weren’t enough people to go around—’

‘No-one ends up in Jonas’s pocket because of luck rather than judgement!’ Dominic barks from the back seat. He hasn’t clocked that I can see him, questions written all over his frown.

‘I knew her before, actually. We go back…’

‘Back? Back how?’

‘We met in the supermarket by the office. You know, the twenty-four-hour one. I used to work the night tills there.’ I crack open my window just so some other noise fills the car.

‘Eh? Are you having a laugh?’