For the first few months of her time in the islands, therefore, while sitting at an internet café in Ayrness Harbour, the sun streaming through the window and warming her cheek, Lucija dispensed with convent business as quickly as she could, and typed messages to her schoolfriends. One was in New Zealand, another in Canada. Her cousin Tanja was in Melbourne. Omer was at home in Sarajevo.

LUCIJA: I looked at videos on YouTube. I learnt the songs I didn’t know, and sang them to Omer. I sang them to myself when I was walking around town. But it wasn’t practical, having to go to Ayrness to type an email. So Sister Brigid sent me off to the smartphone shop in Berwick. I was on the 6.20 return boat, singing away, the phone in my bag, when I heard someone singing ‘Kad ja pođoh na Bembašu’, the love song with its Sephardic melody. I jumped to my feet.

Eyes full of tears: a woman, with silver snakes for hair, holding a briefcase. As the woman sang about the Bembasa lovers, Lucija began to speak to her, rapidly, in their language. But the old woman shook her head.

LUCIJA: I cried then. We both did. She hugged me.

(It was the first time Lucija had been hugged in years.)

LUCIJA: Sarajevo is not so big a city, but still, I was far from home and finally to meet the one person in the islands who knew Sarajevo well – who had known Mevludin! When it happened, it was great for me. I felt the world of home reaching out in a caress. I have been away from it for too too long.

JUDGE: How long had you been in the islands by then?

LUCIJA: Six months. But sixteen years away from Sarajevo.