Page 8 of A Game of Lies

Ffion sets her plate on the floor for Dave to wash. ‘Why were you stacking logs in theExposurecamp?’

‘I’m working there,’ Caleb says, not taking his eyes off the screen, where the seven contestants are walking up Pen y Ddraig towards the camp.

‘You’re theExposurerunner?’

‘I did tell you,’ Elen says.

‘Mam, you told me Caleb wasrunning.’

Elen flaps a hand at Ffion. Runner, running, what of it? On screen, the camera focuses on each contestant in turn, their name and occupation appearing in a banner beneath them.

‘Pam Butler,’ Seren reads. ‘Head teacher. She looks like my old PE teacher.’

Elen frowns at her. ‘Your PE teacher was a man.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, I think she looks very capable,’ Elen says, feeling the need to defend Pam, who really doesn’t look anything like a man, except that her hair is cut in a practical short back and sides. Like all the contestants, she wears khaki trousers with side pockets, and a bright orange fleece with her name printed on the back. Pam’s trousers have been rolled up at the ankles, Elen notes. They could at least have found a pair to fit her, poor thing.

‘What’s a “childcare practitioner” when it’s at home?’ Ffion says, asAliyah Brownappears on their screen, flashing perfect teeth at the other contestants.

‘She works in a nursery,’ Caleb says.

‘Then why don’t they just say so?’ Ffion says. ‘I suppose they’d call me a “crime practitioner”, would they?’

Caleb gives a sly grin. ‘Actually, Miles called you a—’

‘Jason Shenton,’ Elen reads loudly. ‘Firefighter.’ Jason has a beard – one of those small, neat ones that look as though they’ve been drawn on with pen and ink – and Elen wonders what the contestants are allowed in the way of toiletries. She wouldn’t call herself high-maintenance, but you don’t get skin like hers in your early sixties without a bit of retinol, and she wouldn’t want to be parted from it.

‘He’ll win,’ Seren says. ‘Look at the size of those biceps.’

Elen glances at Caleb, but he’s either secure enough not to mind his girlfriend leching over another man, or too engrossed in the show to notice. Elen suspects the latter – the lad was cock-a-hoop to land this running job, and fair play, he’s working hard at it. Seren’s hardly seen him recently which is no bad thing, what with A-levels this month.

The next two contestants are both men.Henry Mooreis an accountant with the accent of someone who’s moved around a lot. He’s tall with dark hair, and although not Elen’s type – he’s twenty years too young, for a start – it’s clear he’ll be competition for Jason when it comes to the female vote.

‘Imagine being stuck in a camp with an accountant.’ Ffion yawns.

‘You can’t write off an entire profession,’ Elen says. ‘You’ll never find a husband with an attitude like that.’

‘Are you auditioning forPride and Prejudice? I don’t want a husband. I had one of those and I got a refund.’

‘A boyfriend, then,’ Elen says, but Ffion doesn’t respond. Elen sighs. All any parent wants is for their children to be happy, isn’t it? And Ffion might think she’s happier on her own, but Elen’s not convinced.

‘I’d rather be stuck with an accountant than a vicar,’ Seren says, asThe Reverend Lucas Taylorwaves to the cameras. His pink cheeks give him a cherubic air, although Elen imagines he must be in his fifties.

‘He’s really nice, actually,’ Caleb says. ‘I made him a coffee yesterday, when he arrived. White, no sugar. He said it was perfect.’

‘You do make good coffee,’ Seren says.

Five minutes into the programme and Elen is already bored. She thinks of all the things she should be doing (laundry, an online shop, the accounts for the holiday let) and all the things she’dratherbe doing (anything but this), and sighs loudly.

‘Mam, no one’s forcing you to watch it,’ Seren says.

‘Just showing my support for Caleb,cariad.’

Elen hadn’t been sure about Caleb at first. He’s English, for starters, and that isn’t her being racist, just that a Welsh one would have been better. But for all his London street smarts, and the wisecracks Elen’s not sure she always understands, Caleb Northcote is a good lad, and he and Seren have been inseparable for the past year.

‘I can’t wait to see your name in the credits, babe.’ Seren leans over and kisses Caleb. A wave of emotion washes over Elen: like being homesick even though you’re having a lovely time on holiday. Elen has watched Ffion grow up (although there are times when that progression is debatable), and now it’s Seren’s turn. Elen glances at Ffion and realises she is watching Seren too, and that her expression says everything Elen’s feeling. The two girls are cut from the same cloth – right down to the untameable hair and the stubborn set of their mouths.Resting bitch face, Seren calls it. Elen refrains from commenting that it can be remarkably mobile, too, in her experience.

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