Irina tells me to follow her to the bedroom, and turns a key in the lock when she leaves. Everything changes into something else. I see a younger version of Mama, looking like me, sitting at the end of the bed: ‘Maybe you’ll meet a man who will want to marry you, maybe he’ll allow you to become a teacher, maybe the good police will come and free you, draga mea, my little chick’. Maybe, Mama. She reaches out to touch my hair and disappears. I place my hand at my throat to try to dissolve the lump.

Maybe Mama is right and the police will come. I saw how frightened Igor was of the men in uniforms in the airport – although in this place, this ‘Dub’ of which Sammy speaks, maybe these things are allowed.

The light in the sky is fading from grey to a darker shade of blue. The navy night sky is prettier here than the dreary daytime grey, the clouds seem to lift and the pressure eases, while another sort of pressure builds up inside. The key in the door turns and Irina enters with one of the men from earlier, who lifts Sammy back into her bed. I feel my whole body stiffen. Sammy is floppy like a cloth doll whose stuffing has been pulled out of her. I am happy to see her chest rising and falling, hear her gentle snore-song. Although her energy is high and strong, beneath her laughter and dancing, this girl is more hurt than I can imagine. I don’t think she had a favourite tree, or a brother like Luca, or a mama like mine.

Irina is carrying a short skirt, bra and black underwear in her arms for me, as well as her bag with its brushes and lipstick and eyelash wand. I dress, sit at the table and let her fingers draw a new face onto mine.

Sammy stirs and one eye opens. I attempt a smile. Irina pretends not to notice that Sammy is awake, but I can see her looking at her sideways and her jaw relaxes and her lips loosen, making her mouth seem plump, and not tight as it normally looks. She rubs blue powder over my eyes that make them bluer than any shade of blue I have ever seen. I startle myself in the glass, so I bring on the haze. I want to ask how much I owe and to whom I owe the debt, but this is not the right time – this is the time to face forwards and get through. Sammy’s eyes are boring into my back as I leave the room.