‘She’s wearing a wig. Can’t you tell?’ I crunch my empty plastic cup into my fist as Jemima squints at the monitor. ‘She’s not afraid. And those are her words, not mine…’

Jemima ignores me, muttering to herself as she reads through the script in front of her.

‘The government estimates there are some four thousand victims of human trafficking here in the UK … Four thousand, is it?’

I nod, standing and stretching. These edit suites may as well be prison cells.

‘But officials at the Natural Crime Agency told us that figure could be far higher…’

‘National,’ I interrupt. ‘You mean the National Crime Agency.’

Jemima curses, stabbing her pencil at the papers on the desk.

‘I’ll get the coffees, shall I?’ I say, slipping out into the newsroom before I hear any more, scurrying past the gaggle vamping around the water machine on my way to the kitchen. You have to be a regular on the pub circuit to join in with that lot. I keep my head down, speeding up as I round the corner. Finally this story 66is coming together, and it’s going to land with more than just a splash.

‘Aha, you’re back!’ I skid to a stop as Olivia’s voice clangs off the tiles.

Of all the people to find in the kitchen. I look up to find her taking her phone out of the fridge like she’s doing exactly what anyone would expect her to be doing. ‘How is it all looking?’

‘Pretty good, actually,’ I say, steadying myself by putting a hand against the coffee machine as I try not to gawp at her. ‘I think it’s all the detail you wanted. Her name is Beata, she didn’t even want us to blur her face. She came here on a promise when she was fifteen, and ended up as essentially a housemaid with benefits. She has definitely had a rough time, the whole nine yards…’

‘Of that I have no doubt,’ she says, frowning at the phone in her hand. ‘These bloody things overheat so quickly…’ The fridge hums to her as she puts it back in. ‘I look forward to seeing the edit. It’s her story we need to thread the whole piece together. That’s how we make the viewer sit up and pay attention. That is how we make it as impactful as it deserves to be. It is really that simple, when you think about it. Take the viewer right to the heart of it.’

I nod vigorously as she stares at me. No one wants this more than me, not even Dominic. A frown crosses her forehead as she looks past me into the doorway.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Thomas says, brushing past me as he walks in. ‘Do you have a quick second for me? I’ve been calling…’