“They’ll be . . .” But Victoria doesn’t finish her thought, something behind Amara has caught her attention. “Hey!” she calls. “Let go! Let go of her!” She starts wading through the water toward an old woman who is pulling at Cressa’s arm, trying to drag her out of the pool. Victoria stares up at the woman as she successfully hauls a dripping Cressa out onto the side.

The woman leans down and points a gnarled finger in Victoria’s face. “Felix? You Felix?” Nobody replies. The stranger looks at them all, grouped together. Beronice has swum over too, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Felix whores out!” The old woman says impatiently, waving her hand toward the door, motioning for them to leave. Cressa tries to remonstrate, but the old woman pushes her backward. Simo’s women have stopped splashing and laughing. Amara senses rather than sees that they are all at the far side of the pool. “Felix whores out now,” the woman repeats, jabbing her finger at each of them in turn. When no one moves she grabs Amara’s arm. “Out! Out!” she shrieks. “Get out now!”

Stone scrapes Amara’s skin as the old woman yanks her against the side of the pool. Hard fingers dig into the soft flesh of her upper arm with a grip that’s surprisingly strong. She pushes herself up onto the hot tiles, shaking herself free. The woman continues shouting, threatening to call Vibo if they don’t move quickly. The mention of the bath manager’s name finally convinces them. Felix’s women clamber naked out of the water and hurry through to the next room, shivering at the sudden plunge in lighting and temperature. A cascade splashes down into the cold pool, the noise competing with the old woman’s shouts to hurry. Amara clutches at the bright blue wall to steady herself, trying not to lose her footing, squeezing against paintings of sea creatures, the open mouth of a fish huge by her face as she passes.

Victoria is the only one of the five still arguing when they arrive at the bath’s changing rooms. They didn’t come in this way. Rows of polished wooden lockers are topped by paintings of lovers indulging in every possible sexual position. The women’s clothes have been dumped in a heap on the floor.