‘Where is Magda?’ I ask.

A female voice from the front of the van speaks. ‘She’s gone in another car.’

‘What car? Where? They promised we could stay together.’

‘They don’t tell me anything,’ the woman answers.

I shake my head and bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste metal. I know enough not to scream or bang my hands or head against the window pane. I know enough to say nothing.

Maybe Petre has come and rescued Magda, and they will marry and have a baby boy. Or maybe she’s speeding away in a van towards a room like the one we just left. Please, Mother Mary, don’t let anything bad happen to Magda because of me.

‘Not long now, girls,’ the woman who is driving says. ‘I’m sure you must be starving. We’ll have a nice hot meal and bath when you arrive.’

I hear sniffing and I want to thump the snivelling girl.

The van drives on. It is still night and the sky continues its weeping.

24. Sammy

24

Sammy

I’m wearing the new gear Brian got for me, the gear I wore the first time behind the bicycle sheds, and the night with the bottle, and the day I busted out of hospital. My lucky garb. I look at my image in the full-length mirror and give myself a proper wolf whistle. I’m hot, hot, hot in my wedges and mini and T. The woman comes in and nods approvingly. She has a bag full of tricks: condoms, make-up, some kind of painkiller I don’t recognise, lube jelly, and curling irons. The painkiller and the lube fills my head with some pretty gross stuff so I do what I do best – I break out laughing, tears sloshing down my cheeks. The woman leaves and returns with a glass of water and a pill.

‘To calm,’ she says.

I pop it and swallow. Then she tells me to splash water on my face.

I go into the bathroom and drench my face in freezing cold water. It feels so good I fill the sink and stick my head under, ducking and holding my breath for longer each time. There’s a knock on the door.

‘Your taxi will be here in ten minutes,’ the woman’s voice says, ‘you need to fix up your face.’

I pull the plug and watch the water gurgling away down the drain. I start to have these floaty thoughts and think: fuck, that pill is good – straight into the bloodstream.