Maureen stops, blowing out a straight line of smoke, before she speaks again. ‘Fear, control, power. Most of these girls are groomed for months before they’re brought here. Most of them are vulnerable, through poverty or lack of family. They’re told all sorts of stories about the lives they’ll have in England, and by the time they are faced with the truth, it’s too late. They’re here, they don’t speak English, some of them, they don’t know anyone, they’ve got no papers. They’re threatened, and it’s not just threats.’

She takes another drag. ‘And another thing that might stop someone speaking out even if they are found is that they’re embarrassed.’

I make a face. ‘Really?’

‘It’s true,’ Maureen says. ‘They’re not idiots. A lot of these women can’t believe they were duped in the first place, they feel stupid. The men who operate these gangs take a lot of time befriending people from situations that leave them exposed. War is ideal because of the chaos, not least the unstable borders. These people thrive on it. And once they have their systems in place, they’re not going to give them up without a fight. Plenty of these women in other situations would have been doctors, teachers, whatever. Normal lives. That is often the premise on which they’re tricked to come to England in the first place, believing there is a better life awaiting them. A job, money to send back home.’

Maureen sighs, her eyes moving to the clock.

‘Listen, I’ll have a word with the girls, see if anyone wants to talk. I don’t know how much it’ll help, but I’ll give it a go … All right? Now you go home and bloody well rest, will you? I feel knackered just looking at you.’

By the time I leave the refuge the sky is darkening, but I’m in the mood to walk and it takes just half an hour before I find myself inside Tariq’s office, almost radiating with expectation.

‘OK, I get what you’re saying, but I don’t understand why you’re coming to me with this,’ Tariq says, once he’s invited me in and patiently listened to what I’ve just told Maureen.

‘I know it’s a bit random but, you know, I figured it was worth a shot. You’re like my oracle, there’s nothing you don’t know …’

‘Don’t give me that shit, Isobel.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do I mean? I’m Turkish. I know we might all look the same to you lot, but—’