My cheek rubs my leg as I drop my head on to my knees. It’s only when I notice my leg is wet that I realise I’ve been crying the whole time.

125

Marie ~ London ~ 2006

‘Hey!’ Jemima pokes her head into the kitchen as I clang change into the drinks machine. ‘Wow, you look like hell.’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I say, running a hand through my still-wet hair. At least I managed a shower, a change of clothes, new armour. My midnight escapade to the leafy lanes of nowhere may as well never have happened. And people do far worse turnarounds in newsrooms all the time. Round here, it’s normal. Standard.

‘How about you? Have you heard from Dominic? Or any more from Thomas?’ I shove the rest of my change into my pocket, blinking away faceless man as I finger the phone underneath.

‘Nope,’ she says, stabbing at the coffee machine. ‘I think he just went home in the end, drowned his sorrows. Having to stomach a massive investigation being shanked into the long grass plus the idea Thomas is ahead of him is at least a two-bottle night. Olivia read him the riot act about pulling himself together. No doubt we’ll hear it all again shortly when she gets going at the morning meeting.’ She jerks her head up at the clock on the wall. ‘Come on.’

I stumble behind her to the conference room, more tension in every step. A flood of details, whisperingly close. Almost the entire staff is churning inside the room as we slide in along the back glass wall, Olivia already vamping and gesturing up front. Behind her, a bank of monitors all flash the same information, as if their various logos and colours will disguise the fact the words are identical. Apology for Andromeda is plastered along the bottom of each screen, yellow, blue, black, red, I think there’s even purple somewhere along the far wall. I snort into my drink as I spot one 126claiming Exclusive. It couldn’t be any more obvious that this information is everyone’s property. Except, of course, the only piece that I need.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ Olivia barks, clapping her hands. ‘Let’s get right to it, shall we? We’ve a busy day ahead. Thomas – talk us through the immediate priorities.’

I brace myself against the wall as he joins her up front, suit pressed like cardboard. Here it comes. Surely he’ll spill his source, or as good as? In front of a crowd like this, he won’t be able to help himself.

‘We’re making sure live reporters are available day and night outside Scotland Yard. We’ll present all our programmes from there. You’ll receive crew sheets and shift times in due course but please, prepare for twelve-hour rotations.’