He takes a deep pull on his cigarette and turns to us, blowing smoke in our faces. We cough, and I lean out the window. ‘Why are we bringing the girl here again? Did you tell Petre she was worth a lot of money?’

Magda settles back against the seat and closes her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘men will pay a lot more for a body like hers.’

Igor speaks into the small mirror in front of his head, where we can see him magnified and looming. ‘Why would they like little girls with no titties? Call themselves men.’ He rolls down his window, throws the butt of the cigarette out and spits onto the road. The car behind us sounds its horn loudly and Igor puts his two fingers in the mirror, then leans out the window and sticks up one finger at the woman in the driving seat.

I cross my legs tightly. ‘When are we stopping?’ Magda asks the driver. The man makes the car go faster.

‘You’ll just have to hold it till we say,’ Igor says. ‘Good for you, make it tight.’ The man behind the wheel laughs. I wish I could hit them both over the head with a bottle and see the blood gushing down their heads. I wish Magda and me could take over the car and drive into the sea and hold their bloodied heads under, watching them until no more bubbles come out of their mouths. Then we would swim to the surface and float on the salty water.

We drive for hours. The heavy-grey sky sits low over everything and there is a damp mist of rain encircling the car. The light is brighter at home at this time of year. I think of my school friends sitting on the benches, staring at the map, and Ms Iliescu telling them I have gone to England, like Petra’s dad and Liliana’s mum, and Ivan’s sister. They’re all thinking how lucky I am, especially Maria, who would love to have been one of the chosen ones: a handsome husband and a big house and car. Lucky, lucky you.

The pressure in my stomach is building and I squeeze hard. After some time, Magda speaks. ‘Where are we going, Igor?’

‘Shut up, woman.’

‘This is not the way. We have gone too far from London.’

There is a silence, then the two man start to talk, raising their voices to shouting. Magda tenses. ‘Can I speak to Petre?’ she asks.

Igor ignores her and the two men go back to their shouting. I squeeze harder. Magda looks exhausted as the car speeds on.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asks the men.

The driver speaks in our language, in a heavy accent. ‘I have to be somewhere in an hour. There’s no time for stopping.’