Once she had finished eating, she needed a cigarette, so before she went back along the ministerial corridor to her office, she sneaked out to the fourth-floor balcony the cleaner had shown her, and found that she was already there. Maybe the girl didn’t 40do much else, other than standing there, smoking on the balcony. It was good to know she didn’t need to stand there alone in the wind getting her nicotine fix, though.

‘How are you?’ she asked, as the girl lit her cigarette for her.

‘Fine,’ the girl said. ‘And you?’

‘Oh, you know,’ she replied and laughed. ‘This morning I’ve become familiar with the permanent secretary’s forgetfulness, the ministerial table in the canteen and the special ministerial sauce, so I’m looking forward to finding out what else I need to know to become a proper minister.’

‘The ministerial rubbish,’ the girl said.

‘What?’

‘You’re only allowed to put documents, notes and suchlike in one bin. That’s the black one in your office. I make sure everything gets shredded before it goes in the container for paper waste.’

15

She’d expected the start of the week was going to be tough, but it turned out to be worse. She could hardly keep her eyes open and was terrified that she would actually fall asleep pushing the cleaning trolley. That was the downside of party weekends, particularly if smarties had been consumed. She seemed to be able to sleep endlessly for a few days afterwards. She told herself she was never, ever going to drop those things again. From now on, she’d let a couple of beers do the job, she thought, also reminding herself that she was never going to one of the Annas’ parties again.

She glanced around, and when she was sure there was nobody about, she went to the cleaners’ store and shut the door behind her. She just had to close her eyes for a few minutes. She took two packs of paper towels, put them under her head for a pillow, lay down and was asleep before she had even closed her eyes. 41

She was startled awake on the cold floor by her phone buzzing at her. She sat up, with no idea of how much time had passed, and put it to her ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Hæ. It’s Gréta.’

‘Who?’

‘Gréta. Thanks for your help the other day.’

Stella searched her dazed mind for fragments of the weekend. Had she met someone called Gréta at the party? Or was this someone at the ministry whose face she couldn’t place?

‘Yeah. Hæ. Thanks…’ It was best to pretend nothing was wrong, and wait for whoever was on the line to let fall a hint of who they were. She stood up, feeling dizzy, and held on to the steel wash basin as a support. ‘How are things?’

‘Just fine,’ the woman on the phone said. ‘I was just going to let you know that I got two matches.’

‘What?’

‘On Tinder. Like you suggested.’