‘Stop, Papa, stop, she’s old.’

‘A useless old bitch then,’ Papa says, and Victor and Sergiu laugh.

I take the dog gently by the rope around her neck and lead her into the yard, tickling her behind her ears, as she lies and offers me her belly. I sense the man coming towards the house, see his boots advancing, and I straighten up, trying to arrange my face into a smile. I rub my hands against my skirt. The dog snarls and bares her teeth again. Papa comes out, ties her tightly to the skinny tree trunk and nods a welcome to the man. The thin twine is pulling on her soft neck and she starts to whimper. I go to loosen the bind when Papa tells me to go inside and wash my hands. The impulse to resist the men is huge, but then I look at the dog straining and see spots of sore erupt on her skinny neck.

‘Ssshhhh,’ I call out to her, ‘ssshhhh,’ as I go into the house, abandoning her to her struggle.

My three brothers all stand when the man enters, and they offer him their hands, Luca shaking limply this time, his chest puffed. The other two are making a big show of being friendly, talking weather and crops, and asking him if he had a pleasant journey.

‘What’s England like anyway?’ asks Luca.

‘England? Who said anything about England?’ The man laughs, Sergiu and Victor joining in. The pressure inside my chest eases a little and I breathe out for what feels like the first time in days. Maybe we would be staying in our country after all, maybe we would be staying close to Mama and Maria and Luca and the dog, and I could come visit them.

‘Which village are you headed to then?’ Luca speaks up again.

‘Now don’t be rude, son,’ Papa says.

How is it rude to ask where your only sister is going to?

Papa and the man look at each other and nod. They go outside and we strain to hear what they’re saying. Through the kitchen window we see the man taking a roll of notes out of his pocket and counting it in front of Papa, who takes the offering palm to palm, plumping the man’s hand in a vigorous handshake.

‘Why is he giving Papa money?’ Luca’s voice is hoarse.

Mama looks like she might have one of her strange fits again, when Sergiu speaks up. ‘Don’t act like you don’t know, fuckwit.’

I want to cover my ears with my hands to block the noise that word makes.

A silence follows, except for the mumbles of the two men outside and the whimpers of the dog. She has not yet learned that it’s better not to struggle.