I wouldn’t have moved if Elena hadn’t let go of my hand, so abruptly that I swayed. It was as if she was backing into a corner without moving an inch, leaving me exposed. I stood, cold sweat on my back and a strange, bitter taste in my mouth. If I ran, could I reach the door? If I did, where would I go? My guts squirmed, climbing higher, making their way towards my heart, to wrap it, to shield it, to keep it from being crushed by the world.

When I stood before him, the man stared at me critically, chin to toe. ‘How old are you?’ he asked.

I opened my mouth to tell him ‘thirteen’, but what came out was not sound. Instead, a sudden rush of vomit surged from the guts that were now in my chest, hot and furious, all over the man’s beautiful shirt front.

Through my stinging eyes, I saw his face and almost laughed. Then he was shouting in disgust and kicking me away from him, screaming that I was diseased. I fell back against the table, and something shattered, but I couldn’t see what; all I could think about was the nausea and my roiling guts as I vomited again. I heard voices, Morales’ voice, saying that I wasn’t diseased, just a stupid girl who wasn’t used to drink, and that if the gentlemen came with her, she would have the girls arrange baths for them, and another bottle of Tío Pepe, on the house.

When the scraping of chairs and curses finally stopped, I looked up, my lips shaking, my nose and eyes streaming. Only Morales remained, and Ifrahim, who must have arrived amidst the chaos, the tray of pasteles forgotten in his hand.

Morales hit me then, harder than she ever had before. It made me bite my tongue, but the wash of blood tasted clean, after the sherry and the sick.

‘You disgusting maggot,’ she said, wiping her hand on the tablecloth. ‘I always knew you’d cost me.’

I risked a glance at her face. The anger was gone, or trampled down deep where it didn’t show.

‘Out,’ she said.

I tried to speak, and choked. She didn’t mean out of the room, but the inn. It was impossible. The men, the clients, they might simply get up and leave, walk out of the gates and into the world, but I wasn’t like them. I had no money, no family, no name or friends to call upon. There wasn’t anywhere else for me.

‘Please,’ I said. ‘Please, I’ll work.’

‘You think they’ll want you after that?’ She looked at me, still revolted. ‘What use do I have for a thing like you anyway? Your youth is the only thing of value, and if I can’t sell that …’ She turned towards the door. ‘Ifrahim, make sure she—’

‘Camila.’