Stella was still for a very long time, before she had calmed down enough to look at the food. She should eat to keep her strength up. How often would she be fed? Bringing her face close, she smelt over-boiled meat and old, dry rice. The green vegetables were swimming limply in grease. She choked down as much as she could, then went back to lying on the floor. The only other place was the bed, and if she lay down there, where would she go at bedtime? She tried to work out if that was logical, or if she was already losing her grip.

When the woman came to take the plate away, she turned her face to the wall and pretended to be asleep. She thought about crying, but decided to pray instead. She said some Hail Marys, just for reassurance, then asked for patience, and strength, and understanding. These people were just doing their jobs. It was wrong of her to be thinking of things she would like to say to the wardress, to the man with high-pitched voice. It wasn’t their fault. This was the system. She had implicitly signed up by accepting the security of Singapore, the safe, clean streets.

She could tell when the sun set by the long shadows on the wall. Before the light faded altogether, the guard came in and flicked on the light in her cell.

“Thank you. But you needn’t bother, I was just going to sleep,” she said.

“Lights on at all times.” And then he was gone. She lay on the mattress and stared at the ceiling until the light left burnt orange squiggles in her retina. What would happen to her? She folded a corner of the blanket over her eyes and tried to sleep.

•

The interrogation room was freezing cold the next time they brought her in. The people behind the light looked bulkier, and she realised they were wearing jackets. It reminded her of her staffroom, where teachers would leave cardigans and sweaters over their chairs, for days when the air-conditioning was especially fierce.

“How are you today, Stella?” A different man, taller, dark-skinned. His voice was deep and hoarse around the edges.

“Good, thank you.” She was determined to start again, give the right answers, and secure her release as quickly as she could.

“Did you sleep well? Was your bed comfortable?”

Was he making fun of her? She quashed a flicker of anger. “I slept very well, thank you.”

“So you’re not feeling guilty?” He chuckled, to show it was a joke, and she smiled too.

“Could you turn the temperature up a bit?” she asked bravely, and held out her arm to show the gooseflesh.

He laughed again. “So sensitive, Stella. Didn’t you just come from England? You should be used to the cold by now.”

“I was only there for a week.”

“Why did you go to England?”

“I was visiting my cousin. Henry.”