She pushed open the door. Inside were the four gentlemen from downstairs, almost done with a bottle of sherry. Abruptly, I realized what they wanted us for.

I couldn’t move. I had always known that I would have to do this one day, but Caterina and the others were older, fifteen or sixteen at least. Elena grabbed my hand, dragging me with her into the room as the door swung shut behind us.

I forgot how to do anything but breathe. One of the gentlemen was saying something, gesturing to a pair of chairs at the table. He was smiling, his whiskers damp with sweat and spirits. Another man eyed us, mouth occupied with his cigar, another blinked rapidly, as if he could not see us through the smoke.

‘Señoritas,’ greeted the first, ‘have a drink with us. Do you like sherry?’

Elena’s face was red to the eyes as she nodded, looking down at the tablecloth. I gripped her hand and stared into the corner. At the edge of my vision, I saw a little glass, brimming with sherry, pushed in my direction.

‘We have ordered some pasteles from the kitchen,’ the blinking man said, ‘and we have these for you. Sweet things, for sweet girls.’

He pushed a box across the table. It looked expensive, creamy pink cardboard decorated with golden swirls and the words Delicia Turca.

Elena was still staring at the cloth. ‘Gracias,’ she whispered.

‘Well,’ the first man said, ‘salud.’

I watched as Elena reached out and took hold of the glass before her. Her hands were trembling, and the sherry slipped over the rim on to her fingers. As she raised it, she glanced at me. Please, her look said, don’t leave me alone. That’s what made me copy her. I picked up my own glass and raised it to my lips and drank the sherry down in one.

It was disgustingly sweet.

The men were laughing at something. I looked up at last and found that it was me they were mocking. At my side, Elena still held her sherry. She had only sipped it.

‘That one might be dull but she’s got fire,’ the man with the cigar observed. ‘That’s how they make them on the streets: slow in every way but one.’

His lip curled at me. My stomach gave a lurch and a shudder, as if my guts were creeping upwards. I couldn’t take my eyes from his starched white collar, from his beautiful suit. I kept wondering what he’d done to get those fine clothes.

‘Come here,’ he said.