Back in the bedroom I find freshly washed nightclothes on the bed. I step into the soft, long-sleeved top and loose bottoms and feel glad to be covered up. Beside the bed there’s a table with a drawer, which has a pen and small notebook inside. I take it out and try to write something down. So, Miss Iliescu, what do I write about here? I don’t even know what country I’m in. I know it’s next to England and there is sea between it and this. I go to the window and pull back the curtain. It’s dark, although not pitch-black, and there’s a light drizzle falling from the sky. The front door opens and bangs shut, and I hear the revving of the engine of the van. The girls are on the move again.

I get into bed and snuggle deep, close my eyes and let my head rock from side to side rhythmically, which stops the swirling of jagged thoughts. In my dream I’m at the bottom of the well and when I look up, Papa, Victor and Sergiu are at the top staring down at me. ‘Too bad you were born a girl,’ Sergiu says. ‘A woman now,’ Papa says, and then Petre appears behind him. I bolt upright in the bed, sweating and cold, turn on the bedside light, twist the skin on my arm and take out the pen and open the notebook. I try to write something: My name is Natasha. I am fifteen years old. I like to climb trees although I am too old.

The door opens. Maybe it is my new roommate. ‘I saw your light on,’ Irina says. She’s holding out a glass of water and a pill. ‘To help you relax.’ I take it and swallow, drinking the whole glass of water in one go. ‘You should sleep soon,’ she says, as she closes the door softly behind her. I wonder if this is one of those pills Magda gave to the girl in the room, not caring either way. I begin to float up out of my body and can see myself lying on the plump bed, then I continue on up through the ceiling and out into the soft rain. Hovering above God’s breath, I settle into myself, falling down into the cushion of the cloud.