In my experience, there are women you get round with flattery and women you get round with insults. But this woman, I feel, would laugh in your face, whichever you tried.

I have spent a great deal of time trying to work out what it is about her that interests me. She looks fragile, but moves as if she owned the world. One day she chain-smokes, the next I see her out jogging. There is something dainty, almost girlish about her, and yet you get the feeling that it would be a mistake to mess with her. She is strangely beautiful, but cynical and aggressive; she rarely smiles, never bows her head, and constantly interrupts others. All that repels me. But there is unquestionably something dark about her, and something vulnerable, too. That interests me. That’s what I want to get at.

6

An icy chill, a clear blue sky, a weak morning sun giving no warmth.

Business people and joggers, braving the cold. Cyclists, their faces wound about with scarves.

Walking to work with hunched shoulders and the east wind whistling around her ears, Norah thought of the people who lived on the streets in this weather. She had decided to structure her series on Vienna’s homeless around four or five particularly fascinating stories, but she didn’t want to write mere feature articles; she also wanted to inform her readers about what they could do to help the homeless. For two days she’d been working like a woman possessed. But she hadn’t managed to track down the fortune teller. You’d think there was a jinx on her.

Although it was still early and bitterly cold, the girl with the Alsatian had already claimed her patch. Norah took a twenty-euro note out of her wallet and put it in the girl’s hat. The girl immediately whipped it into the pocket of her parka, as if afraid that Norah might change her mind.

‘I’m looking for someone,’ said Norah, crouching down. ‘The woman who was standing over there with a begging bowl the other day. A tall woman, at least six foot. Fairly old. Dark hair in a plait, and very bright eyes. Kind of creepy. Do you know who I mean?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘She was standing just there.’ Norah jerked her chin towards the middle of the street.

‘Dressed in black,’ she added.

The girl shrugged.

Norah stared at her, trying to work her out. How could she sit there all day and not notice what went on around her? Norah stood up and turned to go. Then she stopped.

‘It’s cold,’ she said. ‘Tonight it’ll be even colder. Do you have somewhere to go?’

The girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

‘Sure?’

More nodding.

Norah gave her another hard stare, then rummaged in her bag for her notebook. She jotted down her phone number, tore out the page and held it out to the girl.

‘If ever you need somewhere warm to sleep, just give me a call, okay?’