She merely smiles at my sudden anger. “I just want to see where you live, silly,” she explains.

And just like that, the anger dissolves. My mouth goes dry at the thought of showing her through our building. What will a rich Travester girl make of the ghetto? Yet part of me wants her to see how we live. Besides, what have I got to lose? She’s still waiting, honey-coloured eyes watching me patiently and probably reading the flurry of thoughts on my face.

“Come on then, it’s in here.”

Beyond the door, the alleyway is amazingly empty, Babet having gone off somewhere. Emee takes my hand in her gloved one. A glance at her cool profile tells me she’s having an adventure and I nearly change my mind.

“I am allowed out, you know,” she comments airily. “I don’t even need a chaperone.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I say gruffly.

“No, you didn’t need to.”

I lift up the manhole cover and offer to help her, but Emee ignores my hand and nimbly goes down the ladder. I follow quickly, dragging the cover behind me. She steps daintily over the rubble in the basement, not caring that her cream calfskin shoes are getting dusty. We head through the building and I’m aware of her frank curiosity. She greets everybody who appears with a “good afternoon” or “good day” so by the time we reach our rooms it’s like a royal procession, littlies following behind.

In the kitchen, Babet jumps up from the table where she’s drawing and grabs Emee’s hand. “What’s your name? Where are you from? Are you Leho’s girlfriend?” she asks all in one breath.

I’m about to tell her to shut up when Emee inclines her head and says, “You have the prettiest nose. You must be Leho’s sister. He’s told me all about you.” I’m goggling at the blatant lie, and also at how smoothly Emee handles the situation. Then she digs in the pocket of her cloak. “I’ve brought something for you especially,” she says, giving Babet a coil of red velvet ribbon. She must have remembered me telling her about Babet.

“For me?” My little sister’s eyes are like saucers.

Emee is already casting around and I can tell she wants to investigate further.

I dump the bag of turnips on the bench. “Come on, then,” I say, leading her into the hallway towards Ma’s room. She asked, so I’ll take her. When she sees my mother, a so-called enemy of the Director, scarred and blind, Emee will probably be scared off. Bad enough that we’re Cerels, but to be thought a rebel as well …

Emee sits on the bed near my mother, who is in her chair knitting a long stocking.

“Leho, who have you brought with you this time? I can smell lavender, so it’s not Bit.”