‘Sorry it didn’t go our way,’ said Gerald. ‘But we did have rotten luck all the way through.’
Lara almost laughed at the understatement. Rotten luck didn’t even begin to cover it.
The Chronicle’s investigations team had caught tech tycoon Felix Tait visiting a high-class prostitute. They had sworn testimonies, photographs and phone records: they could prove it. But Tait had something up his sleeve. He had an alibi, dramatically entered into evidence at the last minute. It was flimsy to say the least, but the Judge had accepted it – and that had been it.
‘Who needs bad luck when you have Judge Winters?’ said Alex Ford, the deputy editor of the Chronicle and technically Lara’s boss, not that he ever played that card. They were friends first, colleagues after. Gerald looked across, his expression sympathetic.
‘The judge didn’t help, I’ll grant you that. But sometimes the game just doesn’t go your way.’
‘I’m not sure now is the time for blaming the system,’ said Darius Allen, the Chronicle’s editor-in-chief. ‘Instead, we need a full debrief on what went wrong. This has been a disaster for the paper and for the press as a whole.’
Lara glanced at him. A disaster for you, she thought. Darius had been bullish from the start, clearly imagining his speeches of personal victory on the evening news. As the trial had gone on and it had become obvious that The Chronicle might lose, Darius’s rhetoric shifted to presenting himself as a crusader for free speech, crushed by judicial injustice when in fact, Felix Tait had simply out-played them.
As Gerald withdrew, Lara peered out through the doors of the court. There was an actual crowd out there, pushing against waist-high barriers; it was more like a One Direction reunion than a libel trial. Alex held up his phone and nodded towards the exit. ‘Our car’s here. Head straight for it.’
A roar went up as the doors opened and Lara flinched at the glare of the flashbulbs. The roar became a cheer as the assembled crowd recognised the Chronicle team. At least someone appreciated what they’d been doing.
‘You were robbed!’ shouted a man in a waistcoat. ‘It’s a bloody shame!’
‘Vultures!’ cried a woman, holding up a home-made banner with that same word scrawled across the middle. It wasn’t clear who she thought the vultures were.
‘Lara, this way,’ shouted Alex, grabbing her hand. Two policemen were holding back a line of photographers and journalists, the car waiting at the far end.
‘Lara! Lara, over here!’ shouted a voice as they passed.
She looked up. Lara should have been used to this, of course, but her natural place was on the other side of the barriers.
‘How do you feel about the verdict, Lara?’
Lara recognised the woman with the Dictaphone thrust out in front of her. Deborah Simmons from the Examiner, a sour smile on her face. Simmons was a mean girl writ large, using her column inches to bully and belittle. Lara stopped and leaned towards Deborah’s tape machine.
‘The verdict is bullshit,’ she said sweetly. Lara took a moment to enjoy the look of shock on the woman’s face, then added. ‘You can quote me on that.’
She would have said more, but Alex was pulling on her arm, yanking her into the car then slamming the door shut behind them.
Lara slumped into the black leather seat trying to draw breath. The quiet purr of the engine was a shock after the cacophony on the street.
‘Don’t engage with them,’ said Alex firmly. He was angry, but Lara knew he was right. Alex was always right. He had been a close friend since their days as students on a postgraduate journalism course, and he had been a rock throughout the whole trial; as deputy editor he wasn’t even named on the writ, but he had been there at the High Court whenever his schedule had allowed it, just to support her.
‘Remember the day we graduated?’ he said with a half-smile.
Despite herself, Lara gave a soft good-natured snort. They had raised a glass of cheap wine and had toasted ‘our future adventures’.
‘Not exactly what I had in mind,’ said Lara, with a grim smile.
The driver was about to pull away when the front door opened and Nicholas slid into the passenger seat.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he said. Not a question.
‘I thought you were doing the press conference,’ said Lara.
Nicholas turned round to fix her with his disapproving gaze.
‘Darius is making a short statement. The company will put out a press release later. We’ll make sure it’s more considered than your interchange with Deborah Simmons back there. ‘Bullshit’ indeed.’
‘But it is bullshit!’ snapped Lara, her patience finally giving way. ‘If she had any sense Deborah Simmons would see that what’s good for Felix Tait is bad for all the press.’
Nicholas tutted, the schoolmaster disappointed with his pupil.