Back in my room, the woman is sitting in front of the mirror with her make-up things spread out on the dresser – expensive shit, no Maybelline muck here. I close my eyes and offer my face to her, letting her slide her fingertips on my skin, spreading foundation, patting blusher and smearing on lip gloss. Then she curls my eyelashes with one of those metal contraption things and gets the mascara wand and brushes downwards, then upwards, telling me to look up, then down. She brushes out my hair and takes the tongs. I hope she doesn’t give me a Shirley Temple do. The laughter that is bubbling won’t come up and out, the floaty shit she fed me is doing the trick, making everything vague and smudgy. There are three of me in the mirror.

‘Have some more water,’ she says. ‘Now stand.’

I weave to standing.

‘You will do as you are told, yes?’

I try to tell her that there are certain things I won’t do, like getting on my knees. ‘When will I be paid?’ I ask her again, my voice thick and foggy.

She holds me firmly by the elbow, ignoring the question, and walks me to the door. ‘Don’t drink too much alcohol.’

I’m hanging on to her shoulder. The taxi arrives and the driver is the same fat fella from earlier. I wonder does he get a cut of my earnings too, or maybe he gets his kicks this way, or maybe he’s paid in kind. Hatchet said the men would be rich and wear suits. As I walk down the path towards the car I fall over on an ankle.

‘How much did you give her?’ the man asks.

‘Just one.’

‘She must be allergic or something. She’s wrecked.’

‘She’ll be ok in an hour. Make sure she gets some fresh air and water before you bring her in … Samantha? Is that your real name? Samantha? Tonight you are called Natasha. And tonight you must smile.’

Did I hear her correctly, or am I hallucinating? Mr Taxi helps me into the back of the car.

‘Don’t puke in there,’ he says. ‘Tell me to stop, if you need to,’ and he hands me a half-empty bottle of lukewarm water.

My new knight in shining armour! Luce’s face appears before me – a mask of horror. Too late now, Luce.

‘It’s all happening exactly as it’s supposed to with hidden blessings we will soon understand.’ Granny Mona’s refrain echoes in the chambers of my brain, deep in the membrane.

We drive, and I loll, accompanied by flashbacks of Luce’s dad, protecting me, supporting me. Oh, Mrs O’D this is exactly as you would imagine it would pan out for a girl like me. Mother, you said it – you knew it, even before I did.