‘That’s nice to hear,’ I said and poured coffee into the cups. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any cream. And no milk either.’

‘So I figured I might stay here for a while.’

‘Here?’

She nodded.

‘Where, in the small room?’

‘Yes.’

‘All right. Well, I guess I’ll have to run it by Roland.’

‘Where is he anyway?’

‘He’s in his cabin. He took my car and went to his cabin and he’s out there navel-gazing. Eh? What a gem I found.’

‘Seems to me he has his qualities.’

‘It’s so typically male to just take off.’

‘Well, then you’ll be happy to have me moving in instead.’

‘Of course, but don’t you think it’s going to be a bit cramped?’

‘Mum. I’m kidding.’

‘You are?’

She nodded and I put a hand on my chest and laughed, and then she smiled.

*

We sat there chatting and it was more or less like it used to be, back when Susso lived in the flat below mine. I asked her how her eye felt and she said it felt like nothing.

Eventually, I asked her if she’d seen the news, and she had but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it, which we weren’t supposed to, according to our agreement. But I couldn’t help myself.

‘Have the police been in touch with you?’

‘With me? How would they get in touch with me? I haven’t been home.’

‘Diana then. Sooner or later, you will be brought in for questioning. You have to be prepared.’

‘No one’s going to bring me in,’ she said and lifted her eyebrow up with the tip of her middle finger to adjust her prosthesis. Then she looked out the window and smiled like she was planning a crime.

‘Where is he?’ I said.

‘Who?’

‘Him,’ I said and showed how tall he was with my hand.

‘You can’t talk about him either?’

‘I don’t know about can. There’s resistance. Did you have a name for him?’

She shook her head.

‘Sure you did. You told me his name was Skrotta.’

‘Come on. That’s a lie.’

I studied her and suddenly slipped into a memory.

‘I remember when you were little,’ I said. ‘You might have been eight, nine years old, and you told me you skipped the word beer when you sang Christmas songs in school, do you remember? There’s a line in “Here We Come A-wassailing” or whatever. But when it was time for that word, you were silent. Because you hated alcohol and drinking so much you couldn’t let the word pass your little lips. That’s kind of how it feels, I reckon. It’s like your mouth is blocked.’

‘How do you remember something like that?’ she said softly.

‘How do I remember? How could I forget? It’s just so you.’