‘Sometimes,’ Peggy said. ‘At the end. When there were two of us and Orla had kicked us out of the flat it would rain for days and our clothes would be wet from sleeping outside and we would stand outside offices waiting for old men who wanted to have sex so we could be inside for a while and dry off. Sometimes they would bring friends. Sometimes they would take photos, sometimes they would smash us in the face. If things went well, we would steal alcohol from their fridges while they slept.’ She was still doing her make-up, and wasn’t looking at Greta. ‘But if they gave us any money – which was never guaranteed, because once we were in their houses, they were the bosses, and because we looked like shit, they did whatever they wanted – but if they gave us money, we would spend it all on alcohol.’ Peggy stepped back and looked at herself. ‘So, I guess, technically, you’re right – we could have stolen food instead of alcohol. But we didn’t – not once.’ She washed the make-up off her hands. ‘But tonight we don’t really have time for all that because tonight we are going to take the money we didn’t spend on alcohol and go to the supermarket and buy some food that will be ours and then we are going to a meeting and we are going to thank whatever fucking thing it is that’s keeping us sober from the bottom of our fucking terrible hearts that we don’t have to be raped or killed tonight and then we are going to come home and sleep under our roof and tomorrow – if we’re lucky beyond anything we deserve – we will have a fucking carrot to grate into our fucking sandwiches.’

Greta spat her toothpaste out. Peggy was right. They both knew it, and maybe the bakery would bring in some old food for the volunteers, and their Workbridge appointment was this week and maybe something good would come of that. Right now, though, they needed to put on mascara and finish their make-up because they liked it when they were both made-up the same – it felt safer.

Peggy had the tartan skirt on. Greta had wanted to wear it today, but Peggy had it on – so really it was like Greta was wearing it. All day she could watch it move around the store on the body – the only one on the planet exactly the same as hers. So, in some ways it was even better. Peggy wouldn’t be able to see the skirt at all. Just that weird flash of it when she walked or ducked down to pick stuff up off the floor. But Greta could look at it on them all day.

When she came out into the kitchen Peggy had the bag packed. She held it out to Greta. ‘Do you want to carry it?’