27
“Mum!” I call out, chasing her into the kitchen. “Stop ignoring the problem.”
“The only problem I’ve got right now is that you’re in the way of the fridge.”
“This Michael guy seemed like a real hard-a*s,” I say, moving out of the way, “and he’s posted here—in Ammanford.”
“So what?” she asks, not looking at me as she pulls out a plate of raw fish. “The HCA can’t just barge in through the front door and take him.”
“Yes, they can. You’ve seen the news. They’ve been doing it for weeks.”
“Don’t believe everything you see on TV.”
“It’s everywhere, Mum. Not just on TV. The country is under martial law—which means they can do whatever the hell they want.”
“Well, no one’s come here yet, so there’s no reason to start worrying now.”
“Why are you burying your head in the sand? This is ser
