I close my eyes again and feel myself falling into the well. Luca throws down a step ladder, which ends just above my fingertips. Even when I stand on my tippy-tip toes, my hand swipes and misses. Over and over. The ladder dangles, just there beyond my reach. ‘Jump, Nico. Jump.’

Why won’t he climb down and save me?

‘She just went into a deep sleep. That girl could not adapt, would never have survived.’

I wonder has Magda played the role of ministering angel before. As she sits there I see her spout wings, and horns. I see the girl flying away from this place through the clouds and above.

‘It was a pill, just a pill …’ she says, trying to convince me, God, herself, the imaginary sea of faces: a judge and jury.

I am glad; the girl would not have survived. Anyone could see that.

‘What will the men say?’

‘I told them she was very sick and weak, and probably had a brain haemorrhage after they hit her so hard. That shut them up.’

The veins on her neck are purple, luminous and raised. ‘Now, we have to get out of here as soon as possible.’

I touch her arm and whisper, ‘My name is Nico.’

She lets out a big breath with a cough that could be a sob.

The door opens suddenly and Petre says, ‘Did you have anything to do with that girl’s death?’

It sounds as if he’s growling. Magda stands and gestures at me to get off the bed. I quickly get down on the floor, and sit, pulling my knees towards me, trying to make myself disappear.

‘Of course not,’ Magda says, drawing herself taller. ‘Why would I do anything that stupid?’

Petre grabs her by the hair and pulls her to kneeling, slamming her head against the side of the bed. He holds her head very close to his and stares into her eyes, as if he’s boring himself into her.

‘I only care about the money, the money that we need to buy our big house and our car. The money for the life we will live … I only care about you …’ she says.

This seems to quieten him down and he lets her hair go.

‘I don’t know if I can trust you any more,’ he says.

Now she is speaking to him like he is a child, soothing him in a low, soft voice. ‘We are going to buy our beautiful house, remember?’

‘Are you going to be my wife?’

‘Yes,’ she says softly, ‘and we can have our own children.’

She takes his hands and holds them in her own, and turns him to look at me. ‘But, is this what you would want for one of your daughters?’