Mama rises with the first cockerel’s cries coming from the Petran’s farm next door. Our own died a long time ago. We do not expect a replacement. I am careful to dress in long trousers and brush my hair and tidy it back in a ponytail before I go to her. ‘Mama?’ I say to her back as she bustles about the kitchen.

‘Nico, we must go to the well straight away. The water’s gone.’ She turns to look at me and sees the bundle under my arms. ‘It means you are a woman now.’ A fiery heat blasts through my body. She points at the sheets. ‘Quick, before the others wake. We’ll boil those. Go get the bucket.’

‘But the water is stained.’

‘Just do it.’

I return with the rose-coloured water, which Mama pours into the pot over the fire. She stirs it impatiently.

‘Mama?’

Her body stiffens. ‘Just what I said, young lady.’

I want to ask if this has happened to her; I want to run to Maria to find out if she’s also a woman now, but I know not to ask Mama any more questions when her face is set like this. I think of the whisperings of the older girls in school, which would stop any time I came near. Irina would say, ‘Definitely not, she doesn’t even have to wear a bra,’ and Petra and the rest of them would laugh and the skin on my face and chest would become hot and blotchy.

Mama pours the boiling pink water back into the bucket, submerges the sheet into bleach, and we take it to the shed where it’s left hidden for the morning. I untie the dog, whose tail thumps loudly on the ground when it sees us, and we walk single-file on the narrow path through the yellowed grass to the well, one empty container in each hand. The pale sun is creeping steadily higher, irritating my already hot skin. My insides feels twisted and raw. Mama expects me to gather the water as I normally would, but when I lean over the wall I feel as if I might fall into the black mouth, which looks like it will swallow me whole. Mama waits, saying nothing, then stretches over and fills both pails, scooping the water sideways, which makes a greedy glugging sound as it rushes in. I want to tell her about my dream, but my throat narrows and stops my voice. The thing I want to say gets pushed back down and lodges in my stomach like a stone. We walk, the only sound the water sloshing about inside the buckets, the metal brushing against our bare legs.

When we get home, Luca is in the yard feeding what’s left of the chickens, and the others are still in bed. ‘Race you?’ Luca says when he sees me.