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‘I’ve emailed everyone involved to say you’re taking over from me.’
    No. He can’t do this.
    ‘I’ve given them your contact details, work and home . . .’
    I want nothing to do with it. I
can’t
have anything to do with it. I open my mouth to protest, then remember that Laurie doesn’t know my . . . well, it’s something no one here knows. I refuse to think of it as a secret and I won’t allow myself to feel guilty. I’ve done nothing wrong. This cannot be a punishment.
    ‘You’ll have Maya and Raffi’s full support.’ Laurie stands up, walks over to the tower of box files by the wall. ‘All the information you need’s in these. Don’t bother moving them to your office. From Monday, this’ll be your office.’
    ‘Laurie . . .’
    ‘You’ll work on the film and nothing else. Don’t let anything get in your way, least of all the filth. I’ll be at Hammerhead, but I’ll make myself available to you whenever . . .’
    ‘Laurie, stop! The filth? You mean the police? Tamsin said you spoke to them this morning . . .’
    ‘They wanted to know when I’d last seen Helen. If she had any enemies. “How about the entire fucking judicial system, not to mention you lot,” I said.’ Before I have a chance to remind him that Helen’s murder convictions were overturned in the court of appeal by that same judicial system, he says, ‘They asked about the film. I told them you’d be exec-ing it as of Monday.’
    ‘You told them before you asked me?’ My voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak. My stomach twists, sending prickles of nausea up to my throat. For a few seconds, I daren’t open my mouth. ‘You emailed everyone and told them I’m . . . When? When did you do that? Who’s everyone?’ I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands, feeling horribly out of control. This wasn’t supposed to happen; it’s all wrong.
    Laurie taps the top box file. ‘All the names and contactsyou need are in here. I haven’t got time to go through it all with you, but most of it’s self-explanatory. Any more detectives come sniffing around, you’re making a documentary about a doctor determined to pervert the course of justice, and three women whose lives she did her best to destroy. Nothing to do with the investigation into Helen’s death. They can’t stop you.’
    ‘The police don’t want the film to be made?’ Everything Laurie says makes me feel worse. Even more than usual.
    ‘They haven’t said that yet, but they will. They’ll trot out some guff about you compromising their—’
    ‘But I haven’t . . . Laurie, I don’t want your job! I don’t want to make your film.’ To clarify, I add, ‘I’m saying no.’ There, that’s better. Perfectly in control.
    ‘No?’ He stands back and examines me: a rebellious specimen. Previously compliant, though, he’ll be thinking, so what can have gone wrong? He laughs. ‘You’re turning down a salary that’s more than three times what you’re on now, and a career-launching promotion? Are you stupid?’
    He can’t force me – it’s impossible. There are some things one can physically force a person to do. Making a documentary is not one of them. Focusing on this helps me to stay calm. ‘I’ve never exec-ed anything before,’ I say. ‘I’d be completely out of my depth. Don’t you want to cooperate with the police, help them find out what happened to Helen?’
    ‘Culver Valley CID couldn’t find tennis balls at fucking Wimbledon.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘If you’re going to Hammerhead, why isn’t the film going with you?’
    ‘The BBC commissioned Binary Star, not me personally.’ Laurie shrugs. ‘That’s the price I pay for leaving. I lose it.’ Heleans forward. ‘The only way I don’t lose it is if I give it to you, and work with you when I can behind the scenes. I need your help here, Fliss. You’d get all the credit, you’d get the salary . . .’
    ‘Why me? Tamsin’s the one who’s been working on