‘Go on, bitch,’ says Feathers, prodding Zoë with her pistol. ‘These are your friends.’

‘Please, Feathers …’

‘You want to give them a proper send-off, don’t you?’ says Feathers. ‘Take that one.’ She points to a corpse lying a little to the side of the others, a young woman, barefoot, in man’s trousers and a thick wool sweater. Her close-cut black hair is stiff with dried blood. Zoë gasps; stumbling over, she turns the body onto its back. ‘No, no, no,’ she whispers, but she already knows. Efi’s eyes are half open and there is blood around her nose and mouth. Her body is beginning to stiffen and her arms are twisted unnaturally. Rocking on her heels, moaning, Zoë begins desperately to wipe away the blood with her sleeve. Efi’s face is freezing: colder than her own skin. Much colder. She wipes and wipes, but the blood won’t shift.

‘Get a move on!’ Feathers shoves Zoë with her boot so that she sprawls across Efi.

‘Shoot me!’ Zoë screams. ‘I don’t care!’

‘Shut up. Get her by the ankles and drag her outside,’ says one of the men, as if addressing an imbecile. Feathers grins at her and waves her pistol towards the door. Zoë finds herself taking hold of Efi’s bare ankles. They are hard to the touch and terribly cold, but she starts to pull. The body doesn’t move at first and then it begins to slide across the soot-covered floor. The smell of burning is covering other smells but there is a presence in the air that makes Zoë start to gag. Somehow she manages to get Efi to the door, working with her face turned as far away as possible, and out into the square, across the road and onto the grass where Pandelis and the others are gathered around the grave, smoking. Feathers is walking beside her with her pistol, and another fighter is covering her lazily with his rifle. She tugs, step by step, walking backwards, placing her feet so as not to trip, one step, another, another, towards the grave.

‘Hurry up,’ Feathers shouts. ‘Hurry up, you Turkish—’ Zoë’s eyes are closed, and she opens them in time to see a fine red mist drifting around Feathers’ garish yellow hair. A split second later she hears the bang of a rifle.