‘Come to think of it,’ Sammy says, ‘this could well work in our favour …’ She starts to pace, drumming up energy and ideas. ‘Make them feel sorry for you, make them fall in love with you … let your beautiful blue eyes fill with tears …’

Does she really believe this, or is she just saying it to make us feel better? I decide to go along with her. ‘Or one fall with you,’ I say, copying her words.

‘I’m not the falling-in-love-with kind of girl. I’m the other kind. Bad things happen to people who get too close to me.’

I wrap my arms around my sides.

‘Giving yourself a hug?’ Her voice has that hard edge again, like it’s a knife slicing the air.

I pick up the pills that the doctor threw on the bed.

‘The morning-after pill,’ she says. ‘Kills the beginnings of any babies.’

I do not want to think of a bad seed taking hold. I swallow one and drink the rest of the juice.

‘Now, we’d better eat. Those things are a lot worse on an empty stomach.’

When we get to the kitchen it’s full with different girls, and the same driver who brought me here. Irina is talking to the man. I don’t allow myself to look at the girls, I don’t trust myself any more, so I pull my eyes away from the terrified huddle and focus on Sammy, whose energy is rising and becoming agitated and hot.

‘More fresh meat?’ Sammy says to Irina.

Irina ignores her, but Sammy turns her whole body face-on to the man. ‘I’ll remember your face, you asshole,’ she says.

Her skin is mottled pink and red and a flash rash like a nettle sting creeps from her chest up to her neck. ‘Where did you take them from?’ She is speaking to the driver, who swats her away with his hand.

Irina turns to her. ‘This man is only the driver.’

Sammy starts raving, pacing, and shouts words at Irina. ‘Like you are only the keeper of the brothel!’

All the other girls look at her in amazement, then look away, terrified by this act of revolt, which should end with a whack, or worse.

‘You won’t get away with this,’ Sammy says, words spilling out of her, words which cannot be taken back, words which should be kept inside.

‘You would do well to get out of here now,’ Irina’s voice is low and laced with threat.

Sammy curses. Rage, like a ball of fire is building its momentum inside her. The man moves so close that his nose is almost touching the tip of hers. He stands, mirroring her, statue-still, dwarfing her with his presence and his shadow.