I am parched so I go back into the kitchen, where I see two girls with dark skin sitting in silence. ‘Be careful of men made from the shadows, they are always hungry for young girls’ – I can hear Papa’s voice, and even though they are girls themselves, I am careful not to get too close. The boys said they had seen a dark man in the village once and that no one would walk anywhere near him, the stench was so bad. I breathe in through my mouth. Papa says they are possessed by a spirit that makes them black, inside and out. I quickly pour a cold glass of orange juice, and think of Mama’s apple and cherry compote, and try not to.

I follow the sound of loud voices to a room where the curtains are drawn and there are flickering lights playing on the walls. The picture is so much brighter and clearer than on Maria’s papa’s television. I stand and watch from the doorway as the people on the screen shout, hit, hiss, kiss and cry. Sammy sees me and gestures for me to come in, to sit beside her on the couch. Two women’s lips meet and they pull each other close, sighing and rubbing against each other. The icon on my bedroom wall appears and frowns, and I turn my back, closing the door.

Irina drifts down the corridor towards me like smoke. I ask her in our language whether there are any books to read in this place. I suddenly need to lose myself in the words of someone else, set someplace else, telling any other story but this one.

‘Have you found the TV?’ she asks, looking at me like I’ve left my mind somewhere else.

‘Yes, but I was wondering if you might have any books from home?’

Bitterness bites into her voice. ‘Didn’t exactly think I was coming on holidays when I came here.’

I can see in her face she’s thinking reading is the last thing anyone in this place should ever feel like doing. I’m a queer duck all right. Maria appears, laughing, and I swat her away.

‘There might be some English shit lying around in the kitchen drawers that a driver left there,’ she says, before floating back upstairs.