‘Your sister will not be climbing trees today, Luca. She needs to rest.’ I feel like running and climbing and swimming, but maybe Mama knows more than I do about what it means to be a woman. ‘You go on, Luca,’ Mama says. ‘Did you eat your breakfast?’

Luca nods and looks from me to her. ‘Are you ok, sis?’ Mama tells him to go find some boys of his own age to climb trees with.

‘Can I just go and sit in the shade of the tree?’ I ask.

‘No, Nico. Today you will stay with me in the house.’

Luca scuffs his shoe, then bends to tie his laces. ‘Off you go,’ Mama says, shooing him with her hand. He shrugs, sticks his hands in his pockets and walks slowly down the lane, sneaking a backwards look when he thinks Mama has gone inside. She is standing there still, one hand gripping my shoulder, narrowing her eyes at her youngest son. The dog doesn’t know what to do. It chases Luca, then comes back to me, barking. ‘Come on,’ it’s saying, ‘it is time to run.’ I look at it and turn the palms of my hands towards the sky, as if to say there’s nothing to be done, dog – today is a new day, with a new set of rules, and I am as much in the dark as you are. Mama tells it to shush, and she looks at me like she might hit me or hug me.

Papa has a sore head when he wakes and does not pay much attention to me, although Sergiu and Victor are sniffing around. ‘What is wrong with her?’ they ask Mama and each other, with sly smiles. ‘Get out of here you good for nothing layabouts,’ Mama says. I have never heard her speak this way. I’m not sure what is expected of me today. She told Luca I was to stay in the house and rest, but I have never seen her sit for more than the length of time it takes her to gulp back a steaming mug of tea. How she does not scald herself I do not know. Am I meant to sit and watch her as she sweeps and chops and dusts, and serves the men of the house their lunch of pickled cabbage soup and dark bread?

‘Here,’ she says as she passes me the ladle to dole out the broth to the boys.