‘He’s dead,’ she replied, no fanfare. She sat back in the chair with a mechanical creak and folded her arms as best she could in her too-tight jacket, her face working on the prize for Least Grieving Daughter Ever. ‘Sorry to break it to you ’n’all that.’

I couldn’t catch my breath so I held it where it was. ‘Dead?’

She nodded. ‘New Year’s Eve. It weren’t a shock. Best medics in Portugal been telling him to change his lifestyle for years. Cut down on’t smoking, boozing, the 10 gram of coke every day. Didn’t listen though, did he? Still, he went happy. Face wedged between the buttocks of an underage whore.’

My bowels nearly fell out. ‘Oh. My. God.’

‘Yeah. And now I’m left sorting out this dog’s mess.’ She flipped over a stack of paper on the desk in front of her.

‘He’s… dead?’ I said again, completely forgetting to be Australian.

‘Had to import a super-size coffin for him ’n’all, cos of his girth. He was such a sex maniac I doubt they’ll be able get a lid on. Not that we’ve got clearance to bury the bastard yet cos the undertaker’s got a backlog with that plane crash.’ She rolled her eyes. Even an international tragedy was a personal inconvenience. ‘You on’t run then, are yer?’

‘Yes I am. Shit.’ My mouth had gone all dry and it was hard to get the ‘s’ out. Sounded more like ‘thit.’

‘What were it, sex, drugs or murder? I’m guessing… sex?’

I shook my head. It was all I could do.

Dannielle sucked in her breath. ‘Well, I can’t help yer. I’m in enough shit of me own.’

‘I’ve paid for it, he’s had my money!’ I cried. ‘He said he’d sort it for me. Did he leave you any instructions or… a new passport? You knew my name.’

‘Nope, he just said he had a “pregnant girly called Hilary” coming in’t New Year.’ She looked down at my stomach. ‘Where is it, yer baby?’

A black flower stretched out and bloomed in my chest. ‘She’s gone.’

Her face darkened. ‘Oh right. You poor lass.’ Her mouth went to say something but she bit it back at the last second. ‘I’d assumed you were one of his many lovers and the kid was yet another half-sibling.’

‘No I’m not. Last time I saw Bobby I was about six. He knew my dad. He said he could get me a job on his yacht.’

‘Where did he say you were headed, Venezuela or somewhere, was it?’

‘Yeah, South America. Maybe.’

She leaned back. ‘‘S’where he sends most of his “shipments”.’

‘You mean I was going on a boat filled with drugs?’