The committee room was grand and old, with green leather chairs and wooden walls. There were TV cameras at the back. Journalists along one side.

Martin Kerr went first.

He was smooth and confident, in a dark suit. He smiled at the MPs like they were old friends.

“Greenfields is proud of its relationships with small suppliers,” he said. “We never ask for recipes we don't need. We never copy. Our Finest Cornish Pasty was created by our own expert team.”

“And Pascoe's Pasties?” asked the chair of the committee, an MP called Alison Webb. Martin spread his hands sadly.

“A lovely small business. But we had concerns about quality. It's a shame Ms Pascoe has chosen to make these claims. I think she's understandably upset.”

“Did you ever ask Ms Pascoe for a fifteen per cent price cut, then a further twenty per cent?”

“I don't recall the details. Prices are negotiated in the normal way.”

“Did you ever tell her that if she spoke publicly, no supermarket in Britain would touch her?”

Martin smiled.

“Absolutely not. That's not how I speak to anyone.”

He sat back in his chair.

I sat in the row behind him, with my blue boxes on my lap.