‘But how? Where do I go?’

‘Not my problem.’ He stood. ‘You want quesadillas again tonight?’

‘No please, please listen to me,’ I said, sliding out my chair. ‘I need to stay here. I don’t have anywhere else.’

‘This place is not for you. Do you never think why?’ I frowned. ‘You dug a grave for four men last week. Does it not scare you who those men were? If more men will come here?’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘Not here you can’t. This is cartel country. You may think you are brave, that you have bested your enemies in little old England but you cannot fight the cartel. You can’t bring a knife to a gunfight.’

‘Teach me how to use a gun then.’

‘Haha, I’m not about to give a serial killer a gun.’

‘But I can defend myself if more men come here. I can defend you.’ I followed him into the kitchen where he started grating cheese into a bowl. ‘We can be ready for them together and finish this.’

‘Could be more of them next time. They will never stop.’

‘Why? What do they want?’

‘Revenge. Amongst other things.’

I was too busy freaking out about being flung out into the big wide world to really question what he meant by that. No matter how hard I worked in the garden, nor how many après-workout smoothies I made him, nor how many times I watched The Golden Girls and laughed in all the same places as he did – I was out on my ear. The thought of being on my own again made me realise how fucking weak I truly must be.

All my life I’ve had someone propping me up. First Mum and Dad, then Seren until she went to the States, by which time I had Craig and the PICSOs. When Craig was arrested, I had Jim and Elaine. On the ship, it had been Caro and the Prossers. I was a parasite, a suckerfish, like the ones on that shark in Salomé’s gallery. Looking for the next host.

Now here I was clinging to Tenoch, a stranger.

Something would turn up, I kept telling myself. A cunning plan. A miracle, even. I’d take anything. In the meantime, I tended the garden and kept my mouth shut and my eyes open. It always opened up my thoughts.

And a thought did occur to me, the following day.

I’d given the children their presents from town. They loved them, Saúl especially – and I got three hugs which made me so happy I could have cried. David read his comic from cover to cover. Mátilda still wanted Richard E. Grunt as well as the yarn pig I had bought her but I stole it from her dungaree pocket and said he’d run off to join a piggy circus, which she seemed to accept.