A woman was peeling potatoes at the table.

She had a thin face with a narrow pointed nose and stringy blonde hair.

‘Here she is,’ said the boy.

‘Who?’ asked the woman, looking up.

‘The girl,’ said the boy.

‘So soon?’ She remained sitting, a half-peeled potato in one hand and the other brushing back a strand of hair.

‘You knew about it, didn’t you?’ said the boy. ‘You signed up, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did,’ said the woman. She spoke with a slight drawl. ‘But I didn’t know she’d come so soon.’

‘Well, she’s come now,’ said the boy. I was standing halfway in the door, with one foot on the gravel and the other on the threshold. The woman glanced at me, then went on peeling.

‘We don’t have a bed,’ she said.

‘Someone will bring you one,’ said the boy.

‘When?’

‘Today, maybe. Or else tomorrow, I think.’

‘That better be true,’ she said.

‘I’m off,’ he said, stepping outside and waving his hand. ‘Good luck,’ he called out to me. And off he went, riding one bike and wheeling the other beside him, just as I’d seen him do when he came to fetch me at the railway crossing.

‘Have a seat,’ said the woman. I sat down on the other side of the table. One by one the peeled potatoes landed with a splash in the tub, splattering the water against my leg. I shivered each time, but I kept my leg right where it was, waiting for the spray like a person who’s dying of thirst and is given a few drops at a time.

‘We eat a lot of potatoes,’ said the woman when the tub was full.

‘I suppose you have a large family?’ I asked.

‘There are six of us,’ she said, ‘and another one’s on the way.’

‘There were five of us,’ I said. I couldn’t remember so many potatoes being peeled in our house.

‘Are all the others gone?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘They say that no one ever comes back from there.’ She looked up.

Outside the gravel crunched. A couple of boys ran into the kitchen, followed by a big burly man with huge hands. He looked at me in silence. The boys also stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of me.

‘We don’t have a bed,’ said the woman.

‘Well,’ said the man, ‘aren’t they going to bring us one?’

‘The boy said it might come today, or else tomorrow.’

‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile she can share our bed with you and I’ll crawl in with the boys.’ He sank into an old armchair and put his feet on the edge of the table. He was wearing heavy black socks. He’d removed his wooden shoes and left them by the door.

‘We’ll tell everyone that you’re our niece from Rotterdam,’ he said to me.

‘We don’t have any relatives in Rotterdam,’ said the woman.

‘Yes, we do,’ he said. ‘At any rate, I have a nephew who used to live there.’