Ten days after the radio show, an email arrived late at night.

Dear Ms Pascoe. My name is Natalie Brooks. Until last year, I was a junior buyer in the bakery team at Greenfields. I worked for Martin Kerr. I was in the room for some of your calls.

I sat up in bed.

I left Greenfields because of what they were doing to suppliers like you. I couldn't sleep at night. I kept notes too. If it would help, I would like to tell the truth.

We met in a café in Exeter, halfway between Cornwall and Bristol, where she lived now. Natalie was twenty-eight, nervous, and kept turning her teacup round and round.

“Martin had a name for it,” she said quietly. “‘Squeeze and copy.' Find a small supplier with a great product. Sign them up. Squeeze them until they're desperate. Get the recipe for an ‘audit.' Then drop them and launch our own version for half the price.”

She looked up at me.

“You weren't the first, Ellie. You were the fourth.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I heard you on the radio,” she said. “You sounded so calm. And they're calling you bitter. And you're not. You're right.”