The chimney had to be blocked. What could have dropped into it? What if the chimney caught fire, if there was a dead gull in there? My eyes were stinging because I’d been running around in the smoke; my hair and everything else stank of it. I knocked my head on the brick dome of the stove and I was too embarrassed to call Pekka.

By the time he finally got home, I had managed to get rid of some of the smoke. I had opened all the doors and the room temperature was down to sixteen. I was lying in the bedroom; there’s an electric heater in there.

That evening, Pekka showed me a circular hatch on the side of the wood stove. When you open it, you find an empty tuna-fish tin in the flue. You pour a drop of lighter fuel in and leave it burning in the flue for a quarter of an hour. Then the chimney warms up and starts drawing.

Today, as I was going through the washing, I found three pairs of bloodstained knickers in the laundry basket. The small scrunched-up bundles had been pushed right to the bottom.

I went to the bathroom, where Pekka and the girl were brushing their teeth. I don’t know why they always do that at the same time, but that’s the habit they’ve got into. Neither of them locks the toilet door – they walk in just like that even though someone else might be in there already. Sometimes the girl comes in to brush her teeth while I’m in the middle of doing a wee. Sometimes all three of us have our morning wash at the same time. ‘Not enough room in here,’ says the girl. I’ve half a mind to say, ‘It’s not really meant to hold a crowd.’ Sometimes I lock the door but that seems to blow their minds. They’re all like rattling the handle and asking if you’re doing a poo! They can’t seem to get it into their heads that you might just want to wash your face in peace.

‘Have you started your periods?’ I ask.

‘S’pose,’ the girl answers through toothpaste.

Pekka looks at the girl and then at me, and finally at the scrunched-up knickers in my hand. He’s got a surprised expression on his face.

The girl spits and gargles.

‘Your daughter has started her periods,’ I say to Pekka. And then, all of a sudden, I feel like crying. I don’t know where that’s come from; I just carry on clutching the knickers.

Pekka stands there with the towel against his cheek, glancing at both of us in turn. Clearly, he doesn’t know what to do.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ he asks the girl then.

‘I don’t know,’ she answers.

‘Surely you could have told us,’ I say.