11
Hidden Treasures
Philippe ditched the car down an alley. I knew he was ditching it because he wiped down the inside with my blanket. He told me to take all my stuff with me and dump anything I didn’t need. Once done, Philippe handed the blanket to a homeless man huddled inside a sleeping bag. I did the same with the hospital dressing gown and slippers. He seemed really pleased. We stepped out onto one of the main streets among the beautiful people of Stockholm, in a plush part of town – designer shops and high-end restaurants occupying pristine old stone buildings. Even the pavement was posh. Grey-white square tiling with not a single one loose or cracked.
“I could get used to it here,” I said to Philippe, almost jogging to keep up with his long stride.
“Don’t,” he said, rounding a
