We’re on our way to the kitchen when we bump into Irina in the hall. That woman is everywhere. I decide on the direct approach, so I tell her I want to get paid and want to leave, just like that. She sucks in her cheeks and says, ‘Next week,’ before drifting away to her hidey-hole, her look-out, from where she can observe her kingdom. I go to the front door and try to open it, kind of, cos the reality of this place is sinking in, kind of, although it has to be different for me. I’m Irish – I can’t just disappear like these other girls. What did Hatchet say? ‘Count yourself lucky. Some of the girls from overseas … earn nothing. Most of them never get out’. Not my story.

Ling’s sad little eyes piss me off when I walk into the kitchen. She’s not meant to look like this. Ling, you’re meant to be my sidekick, my bratty baby sister, and here you are letting the side down with your sad, tired face. Wipe that look off or I’ll wipe it for you. I put my arm around her neck, to give her a friendly hug, except the pressure against her windpipe makes her eyes go poppy. She hits, hisses, bites. That’s more like it, my little firebrand. Then Nico throws water over us like we’re rabid dogs. I chuck one back and a full-on water fight starts with me as the only player. Ling looks terrified, and I get a kick.

The dark sisters enter and Nico throws water at one of them, the glass shooting from her hand, shattering at their feet. Her cheeks flare and roar and she shouts something in her own language, like a bonkers banshee. Who knew? Little Miss Romania is a raving racist. The girls freeze, their bodies hardening into resigned statues, their response muted, hopeless even, as if this is something they’ve experienced many, many times before, but not from a girl like Nico. This seems so out of character for her (although what do I know, never been the best judge before), that I put it down to a kind of delayed reaction to trauma, a kind of misdirected anger. We spoke about this in my counselling sessions and although I laughed at the idea then, I can see it play out here. I guess it’s always easier to recognise this stuff in someone else. I make some inane comment, not really in the mood to debate the merits (or not) of this line of thought, and pump up the volume, find some house crap and dance it all out. The world has slipped its axis and I am off my head, out of my brain, no substances taken. Isn’t this what they call a natural high?