Page 10 of Cover Story

His eyes darted towards her.

‘One hundred per cent,’ Bel said. ‘You have my word, and I have no way of taking notes.’

‘I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I should be here. Notherehere. I mean, risking my livelihood and my employability in the city I’ve made my home for the last thirty years.’

He smiled a thin smile, and Bel couldn’t tell how much of his pale complexion was Celtic genetics, and how much fear.

‘I get it,’ Bel said. ‘I promise, by speaking to me you’re uncommitted to anything. We can talk the issues through and decide to do nothing. I won’t turn you over. Whatever we do decide, it’ll be a joint decision.’

This last line might be a slightly cosmetic version of the truth, but she understood the need for reassurance when your wellbeing was in the hands of a stranger.

‘You’re the Investigations Editor, so I’m thinking knotty, complicated stuff is of interest?’ Ian said.

‘Correct.’

‘OK. You know the general reputation of, and legend that is, Manchester’s “big personality” Mayor, Glenn Bailey?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘What’s your image of him?’

‘Ehm … very popular. Youthful and attractive, especially for a politician– you get those political crush jokes. An ex-caner turned nighttime czar, then Mayor. Has done loads of good things for infertility awareness as he couldn’t have kids, and about sobriety as a reformed caner teetotaller. Bit of a folk hero feel. A folk hero in a designer plaid shirt, with a takeaway flat white from an indy coffee roaster permanently gripped in left hand. Because caffeine is his one remaining vice.’

The Mayor’s love of coffee, a man who still needed a stimulant, had become a tabloid joke. A running meme Photoshopped one into his free hand on his wedding day, shaking hands with the King, during minute’s silences.

‘That’s roughly what I thought you’d say. He’s my employer, I work in comms. Har har, right?’

Bel smiled.

‘I’ve been around Glenn for ten years, one way or another, worked on his Mayoral bid. And yes, he’s immensely charismatic: energetic and tireless in his love and advocacy for the city, expansive in his vision. He did a lot of solid work with the gay community and, as a gay man of my vintage, I was impressed.’

Ian took a breath.

‘He’s also a malignant narcissist whose addiction is seducing much younger women, preferably those who work for him.Caffeine is one oftwovices.’ Ian exhaled. ‘You’re not going to quote me, right? It’s between us and the departed, here? He treats me like a consigliere. I feel like Mafia going to the FBI.’

‘It stays here.’

Bel’s heart rate sped up. She’d once heard a newsroom whisper that the Mayor played away, but she’d not given it much credence. GB, as he was colloquially known, had an image of being such a contentedly settled ex-raver, she suspected it was a wishful counter take by envious men. The same way every women’s pin-up A-lister was supposedly in the closet.

‘I’ve known it’s been going on for years. Men my age don’t tend to be inner circle on the office sex life gossip, but women would leave, suddenly. Certain organisations would be cagey about working with us again. Over time it turned out Glenn’s whole ageist, insistent emphasis on hiring twenty-somethings, “not old Dereks and Lindas, stuck in their ways” revealed itself to have a different purpose. There’s a particular way he can use his status, with the less experienced.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Bel said.

‘Anyway, I got my twenty-four-year-old niece, Erin, a

month-long placement at our office at the start of the year. I naively and arrogantly thought that, with me on site, I could protect her from any untoward attention. I thought I had. Recently she confided she was briefly involved with Glenn and completely shattered by it. They’d swapped numbers and it only began after she left, so I had no idea. I wish I’d warned her he was a piece of shit, but somehow, I thought that was better unsaid.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ Bel said. Ian’s voice had thickened and the guilt was palpable.

‘I’m not proud of the fact I was overlooking it when it wasn’tmy blood, but none of the women had confided in me, you know? It didn’t feel like my business, however uncomfortable the rumours made me.’

Ian threw her a look and Bel opened her mouth to sayI am not an exemplar eitherand then went with:

‘Don’t worry, I understand. What exactly happened with Erin?’

A light sweat had developed under her clothes, as she pushed her hands into the pockets on her dress.

‘His standard MO. I think. Says he’s seen something special in her, wants to help her career. Gives her loads of great contacts and encouragement. Then when she feels obliged to him, he gives her the spiel he’s been monogamous for decades but she’s turned everything on its head, blah blah. Commences an intense love bombing. Then follows a brutal ghosting, once it’s consummated …’

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