“He wants to be rid of me, you know that?” There’s no rancour in her voice, but no fear, either. Her father used the same tone with me when we struck our deal, all bland matter-of-factness. “Because of this.” She lets her oversized coat fall open, and I see what she means. Next to her stick-thin limbs and round child’s face, the bulge of her belly looks obscene, an overripe apple ready to split at any moment. “Did he tell you about it?”
