“When those of us in the south can’t manage to combine our resources,” Caleb said, “share what we actually have, how will . . . how . . .” He didn’t finish.

“I don’t give a shit,” Martin said. “I don’t give a shit about Spain. It’s not my country any longer. I don’t want to live there. Or here. It just keeps getting worse. Soon there will be desert everywhere. I’m going to save myself. Make it to the rain.”

They all nodded, they all felt the same way.

But then Martin laughed, started mouthing off, and the others played along, partly in Spanish and partly in English, out of politeness toward me.

And it was only mint tea. They snickered when I told them I thought it was something else, said that they wouldn’t have minded that. Caleb mumbled that he’d heard there was a way to get hold of some, that there was a guy selling it in Hall 3. I replied that it wasn’t for me, that I needed to keep my wits about me, for Lou’s sake.

“I have a child to think about,” I said.

At that moment I remembered that I’d forgotten to check whether she had fallen asleep. She was accustomed to my being there with her, to our going to bed at the same time. But she hadn’t come out again, so it was probably fine. She was probably fast asleep.

I took another sip but was unable to relax. I had a feeling that something was wrong.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting to my feet.

The hall was in semidarkness. Many people were already sleeping. But Lou was awake. Her little face was pale, and her eyes were open wide.

“Hello, there,” I said and sat down beside her.

She just stared straight in front of her.

“Is something wrong?”

“It hurts,” she said.

And now I noticed how stiff her body was, lying there with her knees against her tummy. Her entire body was tense.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“My tummy.”

“Are you sick to your stomach?”

“It hurts.”

I was about to say something. About the water. About the rag. I told you so, I was going to say. Why did she have to go and suck on that damn rag? I had been very clear. It was dangerous. Water poisoning, people had been dying from it in droves in recent years.

But she curled up even more tightly, wailing faintly, and I could not bring myself to scold her.

“I’m sure it will soon pass,” I said, patting her on the cheek. She was cold and sticky, her eyes introspective. “Do you want some water?”

I retrieved the water bottle and held it up to her mouth. She took a small sip and struggled to swallow.