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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SLEEPING LIKE
AN ANGEL

At a New Year’s Eve party in Bali, almost two months after Anna’s arrest, Rafael took his last line of cocaine. He’d just begun a new relationship and a new life as a surf coach.

‘I don’t have anything. I have to sell lunch to buy dinner.’ He was broke but felt happier than he could remember, free from a sense of constant paranoia and foreboding, no longer looking over his shoulder. He’d quit the game and his wild ways, and even if the police still sometimes watched him, he had nothing to fear. A dark cloud had lifted. He was back to surfing every day, living the life he’d come to the island for all those years ago.

When his son won a surf competition, he instinctively felt like ducking out of the shot, then realised that, actually, now he could be photographed.

I was in the podium with him, my son – very happy. And when I look to the public there was like 100 cameras shooting us, and I have this

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