‘Do you want me to go?’
‘I’m not saying I’m not happy to see you, because I am,’ she says, her tone a little warmer now, leaning in to hug him.
Hugo takes off his boots and puts them on the shoe rack, thenhangs up his coat and turns to look at her. Olga will be thirty-six in January, but she is only five foot one, with defined muscles and a slender neck. She has wavy, dyed blonde hair and an unusually symmetrical face. Her makeup is always flawless, and she wears silver studs in her brow, nose and both ears.
She is barefoot in her slippers, and is wearing a pair of black leather trousers and a white, unbuttoned blouse. Her tattooed arms and bare breasts almost seem to be glowing through the thin fabric.
‘So, how was jail?’ she asks.
‘Pretty OK.’
She leans back and studies him with a wry smile. ‘You’re a tough guy now, huh?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘No.’ She laughs.
Hugo follows her through to the kitchen.
She has a heraldic tattoo of an eagle wearing a golden crown between her shoulder blades, garlands of flowering vines on both arms.
On the kitchen table, there is an empty wineglass beside her laptop. The air is heavy with the scent of garlic, cumin and fennel from the cast-iron pot on the stove.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asks.
‘No, but don’t worry.’
‘It’s still hot.’
Olga sits down at the table, closes her laptop and puts it on the windowsill, beside a potted fern. Hugo carries the pan over to the table, then takes out a plate and some cutlery. He grabs himself a wineglass, pulls a napkin from the holder and sets it down beside his plate.
‘On the left,’ she says.
He moves the napkin to the other side, takes the bottle of wine out of the fridge, pops the cork and refills her glass.
‘Thanks.’
Hugo pours himself a drink, then sits down and dishes some of the dal onto his plate.
‘So, what’s going on at home?’ she asks.
‘I can’t even .?.?. It’s like Dad is always trying to correct me when Agneta is around, and it’s so fucking annoying, I .?.?. God .?.?.’
She watches him as he starts eating.
‘You might end up being kicked out if you’re not careful.’
‘Legally, Dad has to support me while I’m still studying.’
‘And are you?’
‘You want to know if I’m keeping up with my studies?’ he asks with a smirk.
‘It’s important.’
‘Man, I’ve got so many mums these days!’
Olga laughs and leans back in her chair, making her blouse fall open. The fabric catches on the silver rings in her nipples.