‘The conditions on the lake were treacherous,’ Crouch says. ‘Yet these officers went on to the water with no consideration for their own welfare, and brought a young girl to safety.’ He smiles at Ffion, then his eyes rest on Leo. ‘Great work, you two. Really great work.’
This time, even the oldest and most jaded members of the team are stirred into a response. Leo tries to stay nonchalant, but he can’t stop the swelling in his chest as his colleagues give him and Ffion a round of applause. He takes in the admiration on their faces, and the curt but genuine nod of respect from Crouch, and he grins.
He won’t ask for a transfer back to Liverpool. He’ll stay on Major Crime, and maybe he’ll look again at promotion. And in among all of that, once he and Ffion are no longer working together, maybe he’ll pluck up enough courage to ask her out for that drink.
SIXTY-TWO
JUNE | FFION
The summer brings with it the sort of heat that makes Ffion long for rain. She’s spent the day in a stuffy courtroom with a lad from down south, who came to North Wales on a climbing holiday and went home on bail. The hearing over, Ffion drives across the mountains to the small village of Bethfelin, not far from home, to tell Mr and Mrs Roberts that the man who put their son in hospital has been found guilty.
‘I know it doesn’t change anything,’ Ffion says. Twenty-six-year-old Bryn Roberts was an instructor. His group had been boisterous and arrogant, reluctant to listen to the leaders. What began as messing around had ended in permanent brain damage for one man, and a GBH conviction for the other.
‘Diolch, Ffion,’ Mrs Roberts says. ‘For keeping us updated . . . for everything.’
Her husband shows her out. ‘I knew your dad, you know,’ he says gruffly. ‘He’d be proud of you.’
Ffion’s eyes sting as she drives the Triumph back towards Cwm Coed. She remembers the disappointment on her dad’s face when he’d learned she was pregnant. ‘For God’s sake, Ffi, sort yourself out.’
Ffion had tried. She’d tried relationships, jobs, friendships . . . they’d all seemed to end in chaos, and Ffion had begun to think that was just her. Just the way she is.
But now she thinks that perhaps Dad would be proud of her.
And maybe – just maybe – she’s beginning to sort herself out.
The sun’s still warm when Ffion draws level with Llyn Drych, and the Triumph turns towards the lake almost of its own accord. She has no swimming things, but her underwear is serviceable, and she’ll use her jumper to dry off.
Two minutes later she’s in the water, gasping as the cold tickles her stomach. Ffion holds her breath and plunges under the surface, the grime of the day gone in a second, pulling herself through the water in long, even strokes. Beneath her, she sees the silver dart of a fish, before it’s lost in the murky weeds far below. Every third stroke, Ffion takes a breath, and the shore passes in a series of snapshots, a flipbook of trees and birds and boats. High above her, Pen y Ddraig mountain keeps watch.
As Ffion swims back towards the jetty, she sees a figure standing next to the Triumph.
Seren.
Ffion makes herself carry on at the same steady rate. Every time she lifts her head, she expects the shore to be empty, and she wills Seren to stay. Give her time, Elen keeps saying. But how much time?
‘Has she said anything to you, Mam?’ Ffion asked recently, and Elen sighed.
‘I’m sorry, cariad. It’s a lot to take in. She needs someone to blame, and . . .’ Hesitation hid Rhys’s name. ‘He’s not here, so I’m afraid you’re taking the brunt.’
Ffion faltered before saying what was in her head, and, when she spoke, she couldn’t look at Elen. ‘It wasn’t my idea to say Seren was my sister.’
There was a heavy silence.
‘No.’ Elen turned away, staring out of the window, her voice small and uncertain. ‘And every day I’ve wondered, did we do the right thing?’
Did they?
It’s felt right, Ffion supposes, for much of the past sixteen years, when Seren was free from the stigma attached to the children of young single mothers. It felt right when Ffion was able to stay on at school, get A-levels, go to university. Seren was happy, well-adjusted – until she learned the truth.
Ffion senses, rather than feels, the moment the lake meets the shore. She takes a final dip beneath the surface, her eyes wide in the clear, cold water, then surfaces and wades the few metres to dry land. Seren looks on the verge of flight, and Ffion’s pulse races. She mustn’t mess this up.