Page 116 of A Game of Lies

Leo didn’t tell Malik anything.

Ffion looks out of the window, but Leo’s car has gone. What would Ffion say to him, anyway?Sorry I was a dick? Any chance we can start over? I think I might be in love with you?

She lets out a long breath.

Ffion can count on one hand the times she’s saidI love you. The words seem to get stuck somewhere between her head and her mouth, the weight of them too much to vocalise. She marvels at the ease with which other women say it – to each other, to siblings, to boyfriends they’ve known all of five minutes – and thinks she must be wired differently.

You don’t have to say the words, Ffion always reasons, for people to know it’s true. Mam and Seren know Ffion loves them fiercely, and when Ffion married Huw he’d known she loved him, in her own way.

But Leo doesn’t know.

Ffion pushes the voice aside.

‘Just tell him how you feel,’ George says.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Ffion starts walking again.

‘Maybe if you loosened up a bit, you might feel—’

‘Loosened up?’ Ffion spins around. ‘Oh, you’re a fine one to talk! I’ve never met anyone more buttoned-up. You never come to the canteen, you never go for drinks after work, you hardly ever—’

‘I’m an introvert,’ George says. ‘Like you.’

‘I’m not an introvert,’ Ffion snaps. ‘I just don’t like people. I don’t turn down an invitation to drinks as though my colleagues have leprosy.’

‘I wasn’t aware socialising was compulsory.’ There’s an icy undercurrent to George’s tone.

‘You’re basically dead inside,’ Ffion snaps. ‘So don’t try to give me advice about relationships.’

She stalks down the corridor and around the corner to where Malik’s office is, leaving George standing by the window. The DI is on the phone, and Ffion hovers by the door, still seething from George’s unsolicited advice.

‘How long till we have that confirmed?’ Malik signals for Ffion to come in and take a seat. ‘And you’ll interview him in the meantime?’

Ffion checks her phone for messages. There are several emails in her inbox, including one from Alun reminding Ffion that, since she hasn’t put a pound in the kitchen jarfor several weeks, she should not under any circumstances make herself a drink until she does. Word of Ffion’s confession pod ordeal has clearly spread around Cwm Coed, as she’s had several concerned WhatsApps from friends, and even Mam – who hates technology – has messaged her.Be oedd ar dy ben di???What was going on in your head???

Ffion sends a quick response.I’m fine, don’t flap.

Dwi ddim yn fflapio!!!comes the indignant response.

Malik finishes his call, and Ffion switches her phone to silent and puts it in her pocket.

‘DCI Boccacci says she’s very impressed with you,’ Malik says, just as Ffion starts speaking.

‘I came to say I’m sorry.’

Malik tries – and fails – to hide his surprise. ‘That’s a first.’

‘Funnily enough, that’s what I was going to say.’ Ffion gives a weak smile. ‘People aren’t often impressed with me.’

‘Well, the DCI is. A young woman has come forward with an allegation against Clive Manning. It seems he was working undercover on a story about unscrupulous landlords demanding sex in exchange for reduced rent, and he blackmailed one of the contributors. Said he’d only keep her identity a secret if she was “nice” to him.’ Malik’s distaste is palpable.

‘That’s vile.’

‘She never knew his real name, and when the story broke, the paper refused to reveal their source.’

‘Was she watchingExposure?’

‘She recognised him immediately, but she doubted herself, because he seemed so charming and inoffensive.’

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