In spite of the listlessness that she seemed unable to shake, she still sometimes tried to fight against what was happening to her. But as she kept being told, she was safe here. She was fed, warm and only had to do the tasks she was set each day to pay for her keep. The alternative was far, far worse.

But then there was the other question. How long could it last? How long before she went the way of the woman who had left two, or was it three, days earlier? That one had barely spoken a word to either of them for weeks, and had seemed relieved when her moment of release came.

‘I think someone else must be coming to join us,’ the older woman said, her voice flat, expressionless.

‘Do you?’

‘It’s always the same. One out, one in.’

Somewhere in the back of the younger woman’s mind, that didn’t make sense. But she couldn’t quite figure out why it felt wrong. It was too complicated, and it didn’t matter really. It didn’t change anything.

Finally they both pushed back their chairs and walked to the sink, deep in the shadows of the kitchen. It didn’t matter that they could barely see there. They knew their way around in the dark. It was the same, night and day. Without another word, one rinsed the dishes, the other dried and put them away.

The young woman didn’t want to go to bed, even though she was exhausted. Sometimes the dreams came: vivid, gaudy images that frightened her with the stories they told. Other times the sensations assaulted her when she was awake – leaving her feeling out of control, disconnected from her body. But the hours of sleep were the worst. The dreams were so clear – so graphic and colourful – and when she woke it was hard to convince herself that nothing she had experienced was real.

Maybe the dreams were better than the memories, which seemed hazy, fuzzy, as if she couldn’t quite grasp them. Mostly she didn’t want to because they just served to remind her of everything she had lost.

Her thoughts started to fall away before they had concluded – she couldn’t keep hold of them. Her head was swimming, and if she didn’t go to bed soon she would drift off, standing in the corner of the kitchen.

The other woman stood motionless by the sink, staring at nothing, the tea towel in her hand.

‘I’m going to bed,’ the young woman said softly, touching the other woman on the arm. ‘Goodnight, Judith.’

There was no response.

CHAPTER 4

4