Pushing the cabinet back into position, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored door, noting for a moment the uncharacteristic flush of exertion across her cheeks.

‘Bailey, that was a little too close for comfort,’ she muttered.

20

Dale sat on the sofa and sipped the vodka that Bailey had given him. It was all she had in the flat, but he didn’t seem to mind. Just like he didn’t seem to mind the music – ‘Save a Prayer’ by Duran Duran, one of her top ten eighties power ballads – emanating softly from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner of the living room.

They’d gone for a few drinks earlier that evening in a pub just around the corner from the apartment in Stratford. If it counted as a date, then she guessed it was their second one, although she was wondering if all that was just in her head and it had been nothing more than just another informal work catch-up.

At any rate, she reminded herself that she should probably adhere to operational protocol and refrain from getting romantically involved with someone who she was working on a job with.

So saying, when he’d expressed an interest in seeing her undercover apartment out of professional curiosity, she’d found herself urging him to come back so she could show him. She hoped she hadn’t given him the wrong idea.

He was sitting on the sofa now in close proximity to her. She swallowed nervously and brushed her loose lock of hair self-consciously across the scar on her cheek.

‘That’s crazy,’ he was saying, shaking his head incredulously. ‘I can’t believe they came that close to discovering that you were a copper.’

Bailey had just been regaling him with an account of the Molloys’ unannounced visit the previous day.

‘Yeah, I know,’ she said. ‘If Shane had been satisfied with the coffee-flavoured ones, then I wouldn’t have had to worry. There are loads of them in there.’ She gestured at the bowl of Quality Street.

‘Nah, but no one likes the coffee ones, do they?’ he replied, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

They both laughed. He paused and looked at her inquisitively with his striking blue eyes.

‘So there really is a secret compartment?’

She nodded. ‘In the bathroom. Behind the cabinet. Nothing more than a hole in the wall really. I keep everything from my “normal” life in there. Warrant card. My regular phone, switched off. The keys to my flat in Crystal Palace. My real credit and debit cards. My real driving licence. Anything with the name “Bailey Morgan” on it.’ She paused. ‘But I’m sure you know all about this kind of thing already.’

He shook his head. ‘Undercover work is quite different from what I do. And it never ceases to surprise me the kinds of things you lot get up to. You certainly don’t live a normal life, that’s for sure.’

‘I don’t think I’m able to,’ Bailey admitted. ‘It would drive me crazy. Two point four kids and whatever.’