I would much rather be one of those men than meet one, as a girl.

‘Are you coming down?’ He’s in a desperate hurry to get to the river.

‘In a minute,’ I shout, as a strange and strong pain hits me in the stomach. It has been happening more often: this clutching feeling, which comes with no warning and leaves me with wet in my eyes. I lean forward and lay the length of my body down, pressing my stomach against the wood, resting my cheek on the rough bark. Waves of swimming lines float in the air.

‘Come on, sis, Maria might think you’re not coming.’

I turn my head so the other cheek is rubbing against the old fellow’s gnarled skin. I press and I breathe. Almost as soon as it arrived it’s gone and I sit back up, swing my legs around and drop down into the centre of the tree, using legs and arms to root and dangle until the last swing lands me on my feet.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Just thinking.’

‘You do too much of that already. Look, sis …’ He holds out the palm of his hand and there’s a giant centipede marching up towards the soft part of his arm.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. ‘Disgusting.’

‘It’s what the stupid dog is snuffling around at.’ He points at the dog, its nose pressed deep into the earth, digging a frantic hole. ‘There must be some kind of a nest down there.’

‘Those things don’t build nests.’

‘A hive then?’

The dog looks frantic. I don’t want to see. ‘Come on. Maria will be waiting.’

‘Race you.’

Without saying anything, I build up my speed inside, until I take the first step, pushing off the ball of my right foot. I run like the rabbits run when they know they are being hunted. Even though I’m smaller and my sandals are loose around my ankles, I’m still the fastest. ‘Swift as the foam bubbles dissolving on the river,’ Papa says. ‘Like a silver bullet,’ Luca says. The dog loves the speed of these bursts and the squeals that come from me as I push out past my brother. It runs ahead and then circles back, barking madly at the air.

When we arrive at the watering hole Maria is already there, lying on her back in her white dress with the yellow flowers. She has two dresses this summer: the other is light blue and has longer sleeves and hemline. I wish she was wearing that one now. Her legs are bent, feet lined up underneath her knees.

‘Hello you,’ she says. ‘What’s he doing here?’

The veins on Luca’s neck swell, and he starts to back away. ‘Just passing. I’ll leave you two to it.’