She swore and walked away. I willed myself not to faint. If I collapsed, no one would lift me up, and if they did, it would not be in kindness.

‘Here,’ I heard the girl’s voice again, up close now. ‘These are mine but you can have a few.’

She was holding out a newspaper bundle. The smell hit me, fish oil, chargrilled flesh, warm paper. It was filled with scraps of sardines, the bits that had fallen off into the brazier.

‘She lets us have these for cheap,’ the girl said, jerking her head at the fish-woman. ‘Knows we don’t have time to eat a whole stick. I tried once. Made me sick, eating them that fast.’ She picked out a chunk of blackened fish, and ate it. ‘Well?’ she asked, chewing.

I reached towards the paper, took a piece and put the whole thing in my mouth. It was glorious, burnt salt, sweet flesh that tasted just how the sea had smelled. We never had fish that fresh at the inn. Often I had to spice it with a heavy hand, redden it with paprika and pepper to disguise the fact it was bad. But this … I reached for another piece.

We ate like that, chewing and spitting out the sharp bones, until the fish was all gone, and only the oily paper remained.

‘Thank you,’ I told her, my mouth tingling with salt. ‘I was about to die of hunger.’

She dropped the paper to the ground. ‘You just get here?’

I nodded. ‘From inland. Looking for work.’

She laughed and looked me over, her eyes flicking from my bruised nose to the dirt beneath my nails. ‘No offence but you might have to wait till it gets late, there’s that many girls working here. Most of us got regulars.’

‘I didn’t mean—’ I stopped.

She looked at me, her lips twisted. ‘You mean you didn’t come here to whore? None of us did, chica. Most of us came looking to be domestics, over there.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the rock. ‘Course no one tells you before you leave home that there isn’t any work, that the Brits bring their own lot in.’

‘What about the men on the shore?’ I asked. ‘They had work, carrying cargo from a boat. There was a man who paid them. In a black hat.’

The girl smiled. ‘Black hat, beard like a mule’s ass?’

That made me smile too, despite myself, and I nodded.

‘That’s Bautista. He’s got the biggest racket round here. Runs the show. Usually pays well.’ She glanced about the street. ‘If he had them working tonight, I might have some luck after all.’ She tugged at her blouse, pushed a few hairs back from her face. ‘Wait till they’ve had a few. They’re less picky then.’ With that she began to walk away.