crook-eye that makes the innocent feel guilty, though I’d never burgled a begonia in my life. I decided it was best to get the hell out, and as quickly as possible. I suspect she was curious as to the fate of the phantom lost wallet.
‘You’re not Vladan, by any chance? From Slovenia?’ My heart hammered into my eyes.
‘Yes... I’m Vladan. From Slovenia.’ ‘Tomislav told me about you.’
‘Yes. He said that you had escaped to Slovenia during the war, and the he couldn’t contact you.’
This was true.
‘He also told me your family story. Sad.’
I just nodded, not sure what to do. Mrs. Babić’s face revealed her calculation of my quick conversion from Vladan Borojević into Vladan Zdravković, hero of an invented biography by the even more invented Tomislav Zdravković. I had no way of knowing whether the stories he told her were based on real events, on anything I could anticipate if questioned. I assumed that it was all