‘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.

Lucy swans back in, wearing her pink negligee and see-through robe. It is dirtier, more worn. She staggers in her heels and carries a comically tiny purse. She pulls out a chair and sits down.

She sits for two minutes before she shouts, ‘What is taking so long?’

Natasha enters wearing a suit and a moustache. She sits down opposite Lucy.

‘Why don’t you eat something?’ Natasha says to Lucy. ‘You look so good but why don’t you eat something?’

Lucy presses the bell. ‘Next!’

Natasha changes quickly into a looser costume; a huge, white shirt.

‘I have a poetic soul, you see.’

Lucy presses the bell. ‘Next!’

‘It was a transformative experience.’

Lucy presses the bell. ‘Next!’

‘Next!’

‘Next!’

‘Next!’

The bell rings out again and again as Natasha scrambles to change costumes faster and faster. She sways left and right as she pulls trousers and shirts on and off. She becomes more and more frantic until she collapses, lying motionless on the floor. Lucy just looks at her. Natasha stands up and calmly dusts herself off. She exits stage left.

Lucy is left alone at the table. ‘Intimacy is hard for me,’ she says, ‘but I think I speak for all of us when I say it’s hard for all of us.’

Natasha returns dressed in a coat and tails. She pulls a drinks cabinet behind her. She polishes a glass and places it in Lucy’s waiting hand. She opens a bottle.

‘How was your evening, Miss?’

‘It was alright.’

‘You tell me when now, Miss.’