Ted chews gum in my ear as he reads over my shoulder. Apart from us, and Sue on Reception, the news room is empty. I can see Seth in the side room going through what look like old slides. Ellie is out doing vox pops with Jack. I haven’t seen much of him recently. Not properly. Not like we used to. We used to go for lunch or for a drink after work at least once a week for a proper gossip. That hasn’t happened since the night he got mugged. He’s been working hard and I wonder if he’s looking for a promotion or another job.

After Ted’s finished reading, he stands back, with a ‘Humph’, his arms folded. I can tell straight away that he’s disappointed. ‘This is nothing that the Daily News won’t have,’ he says, half sitting, half leaning against the empty desk next to mine. He looks tired this morning, I observe. He’s not shaved and his eyes sag more than usual. He’s wearing faded jeans that are thinning at the knee and Puma trainers. ‘It’s only Wednesday. This won’t be printed until Friday. By then it will be old news. We need something more, Jess.’

Inwardly I groan. Always something more. I’ve done as much as I can. I’m the only reporter nationally who has an exclusive with Margot. The red tops have borrowed quotes from my piece, of course, but they’ve had to attribute it to me and to the Herald. It’s strange to see my name in the national press again. But how are we supposed to compete with a daily newspaper when we come out only twice a week and nobody reads our website? I’ve tried to point out to Ted that we need to move with the times and refurbish our online presence, but he keeps muttering that Jared, the editor at HQ, dismissed the idea, citing ‘budget cuts’.

I flick through my notebook looking for the more that Ted wants. ‘Well, I’m working on the story I got from the landlord of the Funky Raven.’

He runs his hand across his bristly chin and raises one of his shaggy eyebrows. ‘Remind me?’

‘That Clive was dealing drugs to students in his pub. And I bumped into the guy Flora was going out with when she disappeared. Dylan Bird. He told me he thought Clive had killed Flora because Dylan owed him and his brother Norman money for drugs.’ I remember Dylan’s pinched white face, his mumblings of ‘he killed her because of me’.

Ted sighs heavily and my heart sinks, anticipating what he’s going to say. ‘But Clive didn’t kill Flora, did he? At least, there’s no evidence of that now. The body isn’t hers!’