‘It’s so great to have you at this college,’ Natasha says, ‘and, as you know, we like to mind our students. So, Lucy, we’re going to help you find your parents.’ Natasha leans over and grabs Lucy’s arm. ‘We do this because we care. Lucy, are these your parents?’

Onscreen appears a picture of an elderly man and woman standing in a field of corn.

‘No,’ Lucy says.

Natasha nods in deep consideration. ‘Lucy,’ she says, seriously, ‘are these your parents?’

A still from the film Man of Aran pops up. A black-and-white man and a woman standing in front of a sunken ship.

‘No,’ Lucy says, baffled.

The phone rings. ‘Excuse me. I have to answer this but so help me God we’re going to do everything in our power to find your parents, Lucy.’ Into the phone, Natasha shouts: ‘I don’t care, get her down off that building. That would be the fourth this year. Get her down.’ She slams the phone down. ‘Hahahahah,’ she laughs falsely, ‘just a bit of business there. So where was the last place you saw your parents? Was it outside your shack?’

‘My what?’

Natasha looks tortured. ‘It’s terrible. So terrible. A lot of the country girls come up here – they don’t even have running water and electricity in their homes.’

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Lucy says.

‘We try to do what we can for them. We give them these little boxes at Christmas, it’s just a little something, a token, but it helps.’ The phone rings again. ‘Excuse me,’ Natasha says, and answers. ‘She did WHAT? Why would she do that? That’s dreadful. That’s just dreadful. Clean it up.’ Natasha hangs up. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘we’ve lost another potential alumna. So, Lucy, tell me more about you. How did you find out about this college? You and your eighteen siblings were gathered around the television set and you saw a picture of it onscreen. Your heart was set on it.’

‘That wasn’t it.’

‘That’s actually a moving and beautiful story. We should put it in the newsletter.’

‘But I—’

‘So when the time comes and you’ve been out in the world for a while, we will be asking you for a donation to our establishment. Do you think you will be able to contribute?’

‘I think you’ve got me all wrong,’ Lucy says. ‘Wait.’ She walks offstage.

Natasha sits looking at the phone as if daring it to ring again. Lucy returns wearing everything she has ever stolen and been gifted. She can’t be seen, her face and body are obscured by the pile of clothes and jewellery. She can barely walk. She clears a space in which only her mouth appears.

‘Do I look like a lowlife to you?’ she asks.

‘You look good,’ Natasha says. ‘You look very good. But you’re annoying me now. You’re annoying me. Can we have some fun? I want to have some fun.’ Out of the desk drawer, Natasha takes a sign that reads: ‘Saturday Night.’ She holds it up for the audience to see. Lucy waddles offstage. Natasha smoothes down a white tablecloth over the desk and places a vase of flowers on it. She also sets down a silver bell. She bows and exits.