Long after Agla had finished washing up and was back in her cell, she still felt the heat in her face. It was either due to the food, which had been as spicy as proper Thai food should be, or because of the awkwardness with Elísa. The others had disappeared after dinner, leaving the two of them to clear up the kitchen. Elísa seemed almost in awe of her, while Agla cursed herself for criticising the girl.

‘What, are you some kind of bankster?’ she had asked as Agla dried the last of the plates.

‘You can call it what you like,’ she said, placidly. But then her temper caught up with her. ‘And you? What are you? A junkie?’

Elísa giggled quietly, almost apologetically.

‘Yeah, I suppose so. But I’ve been through rehab. Again. I think … or let’s say I hope I can stay straight this time. I’m free of the Boss and all that smuggling crowd now, and I hardly owe them anything anymore. I’m taking it a day at a time, and all that. But then I’m so easily tempted, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay straight once I’m out of here.’

Her sincerity triggered Agla’s regret a second time, and she muttered something along the lines of, sure, things would work out for her this time, and then she left the kitchen.

She was back in her cell, her face flushed, when she realised that she had forgotten to thank Elísa for the meal. This young woman aroused some strange emotions in her, a longing to either hit her, or else crush her in her arms. It had been a few years since she had wanted to hug anyone. There had been nobody she had wanted to embrace since Sonja’s departure. She growled to herself over her own ineptness. Tomorrow she would make it up; she would make time to talk to her, thank her for the meal and apologise for calling her a junkie.

In the bathroom she splashed cold water on her hot face and as she peered at herself, she noticed her perfume. Chanel. She picked it up and dropped it in the bin; 1965 was indeed a long time ago.

16

Hunger forced María out of The Squirrel’s office as the normal working day was coming to an end. Marteinn hadn’t been seen all day, and she hoped that he had done as she had told him and gone to the clinic to make sure his prescription was correct.

The day had been spent prioritising the unpaid bills and calling a few companies, begging them to place advertisements with The Squirrel. After that she had got lost in the internet, feeling like she was in an aimless daze, which was maybe no bad thing. It was better than being miserable and thinking about Maggi all day long, and then being caught up in studying his Facebook page in fine detail, as she had done right after the divorce.