Back at the house, I’m stripped to the waist and washing myself at the sink in the communal bathroom when Nanna comes looking for me. “And where have you been, young man? I needed somebody to dig a hole for the rubbish.”

Drying my face with the scrap of thin towel, I flash her a grin. “I got a job.”

Nanna blinks in surprise. “What kind of job?”

“In a garden.” Lowering the towel, I meet her disbelieving glare. “In a Travester garden.”

She’s shaking her head, hard to please at the best of times. “Payment?”

“End of the week.”

“Well!” she huffs. “We can always do with a few more coins around this place.”

She leaves me alone then and I grin at the stained mirror on the wall, combing my dark hair back off my face with my fingers. “We can always do with a few more coins around this place,” I tell the mirror in a falsetto voice. I saunter back down the corridor to our kitchen, pleased with myself.

Nanna announces my news at the dinner table. She even gives me an extra potato.

“Oh, Leho,” exclaims Marina, “that’s marvellous.”

Ma is beaming. “A nice, safe job,” she says, “out of harm’s way.”

“Will you be growing yummy things to eat?” asks Babet.

“Not exactly,” I say. It’s too hard to explain about not being allowed to take anything.

“Where is this garden?” asks Jorzy, more suspicious.

Cutting up the potatoes on my plate, I consider lying, then decide they might as well know. “It’s the Director’s garden.”

Silence thumps over the table. Ma stands abruptly and leaves the room, the sharp sound of her cane hitting the floorboards.

“What?” I ask. I thought they’d be impressed.

Nanna clears her throat. “It’s a shock, that’s all.”

“Does he mean the Director of all Ursa?” Babet asks Marina.

“Yes, sweetie,” she winces, “that one.”

Jorzy doesn’t say anything. His face is closed and he avoids looking at me. It’s disappointing: I’d expected my brother especially to be pleased.

Later, when I’m in bed, arms and back aching, Jorzy pokes his head into the cubbyhole. “What are you up to, Leho?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing.” His sharp tone stings. “I got the job for you – for you and your friends, to help, you know, with the plan.”

My brother nods, his face serious. He looks like Papa, or the way I remember our father. “All right, then. But Leho–”

“What?”

“Keep yourself safe.”