‘In London,’ Magda replies. ‘I can take her there personally and get a very high price for her, enough for a house deposit.’

‘Why would I believe a no-good whore like you?’

‘Because this whore knows what she’s talking about,’ she says. ‘I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you.’

‘Old slag,’ Petre agrees.

‘And if it’s not true, you can put me to work again and I’ll personally make all that money for you.’

Petre sits down heavily on the side of the bed and looks at me. ‘What will I tell Bardhok? He was asking about her the other day.’

‘Tell him she is very sick with syphilis and can’t be treated. Tell him she’s highly contagious and is as good as dead.’

‘Jesus, woman, the lies you spin. Sick … Now. Come on. We need you to work your slippery magic on one of the new lot. Won’t do her job, in spite of some coercion.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner? They could kill her.’

‘Did I ask you your opinion, woman? How many times?’ His voice, cold and sharp, cuts through the air.

‘I forgot. Sorry. I forgot.’

Their footsteps cross the bedroom and leave, door slamming behind.

The room is cold and it is hot. It spins around me and closes in on me. I can hear the walls breathing, and crying. There is a rustling sound and I think it might be squirrels, monster squirrels the size of dogs with pointy teeth and tails. I wrap the sheet around my body, over my head, under my feet. The room’s cries are louder now and they speak in a bruised, belligerent voice. ‘I won’t do it. Kill me, but I won’t let you do it.’ The girl with the thumped head is screaming in my head, and her voice becomes my voice. Scuttling shadows fall across my body and the sheets are tangled and wet.

A hand is pressed on my forehead. ‘Ok. Just a dream. A bad dream.’

I sit up and twist the skin on my forearm. I pinch even harder as my breath settles back down into my body and the ghosts evaporate.

‘Please help that girl,’ I say.

Magda sits heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Don’t do that,’ she says, as she brushes my pinching fingers away.

‘Stop the men from using her. She can’t do it.’

‘I saw that,’ she says, and slumps, head in her hands, fingers caressing her temples. ‘It happens sometimes. I told the men I was giving her a sedative …’ Magda continues in a loud, harsh voice, as if justifying her actions to a jury. ‘She was as good as dead anyway … worse than dead.’

The cold sweat on my skin makes me shiver.

‘She begged me to.’