It had always been different for Kurt. The rules had been more flexible for him because he was a boy. He’d gone to school till he was ten, whereas Miki had been home-schooled from the beginning. He’d always had more freedom, driving to town from the farm, buying supplies, meeting people. But Miki hadn’t been allowed to leave at all, because Mother and Father said the world wasn’t safe for women. They’d spoken of drug addicts and thieves, people without morals or God, men who forced themselves on women, rich people stealing from the poor, women showing too much skin. All evil.

Now Miki knew otherwise. Kurt said the locals and tourists were wicked, but she had studied their lives. She wasn’t allowed to leave the shop, but the world came to her. She learned by listening to customers, reading faces, absorbing talk, watching the way people moved, their language and interactions. She recognised regulars by scent. The farm had smelled of grass, mud and manure, the woody aroma of apple trees. Here, everything was more complex and layered. Body odours. Perfumes. Cigarette smoke and food.

Even so, Miki longed to escape. To walk wherever she wanted. Talk to people. Go to school. But Kurt wouldn’t allow it. Whenever he went out, he locked her in. He said women needed protection and he was keeping her safe. It was what Father and Mother would have wanted, he insisted. The same applied to school. Kurt said education was overrated for girls. A waste of time. How could Miki explain that she missed her lessons with Mother because she’d enjoyed using her brain?

Eighteen months had passed since the fire, and not a day went by without Miki remembering it. Everything gone in one awful night: her parents, her home and her life. Her family had worked hard to serve God, so surely he should have given them some sort of warning. And yet she’d revisited the day of the fire so many times in her mind and could find nothing that hinted at what was to come. Kurt said this was evidence God didn’t exist; if God was real he should have protected them. Her brother had given up religion after that. And, although Miki had felt lost without God at first, a small voice inside her agreed. Had all those hours of prayer counted for nothing? It made no sense to her. If the fire was supposed to be a test of her faith, it had been too much to ask.