‘Wait,’ I called. ‘I … don’t have anywhere to sleep. Do you know a place?’

She turned. In the light of a flickering electric bulb that hung outside a bar, I saw that beneath the kohl and the weariness, she was younger than I’d thought. ‘You got any money?’ she asked.

I shook my head.

She sighed. ‘There’s an empty warehouse, border end of the beach. People sleep there, sometimes. Anything worth nicking?’

‘Only a knife.’

She gave me a sort-of smile. ‘Watch your back, chica.’

I wandered, no idea of where to go, or what to do with myself. The girl was right about other women, there were two to every corner of the main street. I saw the tell-tale signs of their profession everywhere; a chair sitting empty outside a house, a bit of bright rag tied to a window, the smell of violet perfume, liberally doused. Finally, at the end of a quiet street, I found a water pump, and stuck my head beneath it, rinsing the salt spray and sweat from my face, drinking until the pieces of fish swam in my belly.

When I looked up, the streets were dark. I began to feel afraid. The water had washed away a film of grogginess and reminded me of the truth: that I would have to spend the night in the open. It struck me then just how protected I had been at the inn, despite Morales’ threats. Road or room, that had been her offer in the past. Now I knew for certain what I had only suspected before: that she knew first-hand the realities of both and had once made the choice herself. Perhaps her fierceness came from the knowledge of what lay beyond the gates for a woman like her. Like me.

As I pushed the hair back from my face, I became aware of someone watching me. A man, leaning heavily on a wall in the shadows, his lips slack, his eyes fixed on my chest, where the water had soaked through my blouse. I didn’t smile, though I knew what the girls would have done. I knew the tricks and bits of business they used, to secure their clients.

‘Like what you see?’ I asked, my voice hardly audible. The man looked on without moving. Remembering the Señor’s dog-like stare, I almost turned and ran, but then the man was grunting and lurching forward. When he got within a few feet of me I realized he was sopping drunk. In a dark corner of my mind, an idea began to form.

‘How much?’ he slurred. I don’t believe he could see me properly, for his eyes were drifting out of focus. All the better, I told myself, before I swallowed hard, and answered with a price.

He began to fumble with his belt.

‘Not here.’ He turned his vacant gaze on me. ‘There,’ I pointed to a dark alley.