Luca runs to Mama’s side and holds her head, while I move in a trance to the bucket of water and dip a cup in and hold it to her lips. She takes one sip and waves us away. She lies on the cold concrete floor, staring at the ceiling, then gets up like she’s sleepwalking, takes the broom and a chair, climbs onto it and reaches to the corner of the ceiling with the head of the brush. She swipes at a cobweb. ‘What a monster of a thing. How did I miss that?’ And she swipes and swipes, brushing the air, sweeping the space above her head, long after the web has disintegrated onto the floor. The dog sticks her nose into the drifts of dirt, then Mama turns on her and whacks her flanks. The poor creature yelps.

‘Mama, don’t,’ I say.

‘Who asked you?’ She steps down off the chair, advancing on me with the broom. I back away and cover my face with my hands.

‘Mama!’ Luca cries. And then she turns on him, lashing out, hitting him hard across the face, the body. He tries to fend off the blows and grabs hold of the bristles. They have a tug of war until the brush falls from Mama’s hands and she is on her hands and knees, weeping. I feel cold inside. Luca goes to her and wraps his arms around her. This is only the second time I have seen Mama being held by any of the men in her life.

After a moment, she pulls away and stands. ‘Now go feed the chickens, son.’

He looks at me, I nod at him. ‘Yes Mama,’ he says as he goes into the yard, although the chickens don’t need feeding at this time. I bend to stroke the dog on its head. She wags her tail half-heartedly and I lean in to kiss her on that soft spot between her eyes.

‘Don’t do that, Nico, she probably has fleas.’

‘Are you ok, Mama?’

‘Fine,’ she says, her voice full of bustle. ‘He’s a good-looking man, Nico. We must get you some clothes for England.’

Has she really given in that easily, or is she trying to convince herself that she can trust Papa, in spite of everything?

‘There is no fighting with fate,’ she says, more to herself than to me.

But Mama, England, without you? My voice gets pushed down somewhere deep inside me.

She falls silent and then says softly, ‘I’ve been lucky … I have you for a daughter.’

Not for much longer, I think.

‘You might have a beautiful girl of your own one day. You’ll be a lovely mama,’ she says.

What would it be like to be a mama without my own around? A silent, heavy cry builds in my chest.