My mother always said I was cold, but I like to think that I’m just good at compartmentalising. I had to be. Besides, if anyone was cold, it was her. I’m not sure she was given the ‘show your emotions’ gene; I think it skipped a generation, because I have no such issues. I can control my emotions, sure, I suppose that’s where the compartmentalising comes in. I can put things into their separate boxes, and only deal with what I need to. Right now, I need to deal with my plans for what happens after this. As long as I am out of the hotel room, I can keep the box with last night’s nightmare safely locked away.

I finish my food and coffee. The young woman still hasn’t looked up from her phone, and her food remains mostly untouched. For a brief moment, I wonder what her story is – why is she here alone, why has she ordered food and not eaten it, who she is texting with so frantically – her expression fixed and stony, giving nothing away. I thank the woman at the counter and disappear back into the maze of the market. I spot the cash machine that I used yesterday and, realising that I actually do need to start paying for everything myself now, I head towards it.

The machine takes its time, whirring away, and then a message pops up on the screen. It’s in Russian, because I hadn’t bothered to change the language at the start, confident that I would be able to work my way through it as I did before. But now I don’t know what it’s saying. Annoyed, I stab at the red button to cancel the transaction and start again, but then the whirring starts again, and another message appears. Frowning, I wait for my card to appear in the slot, but it doesn’t. I press the red button again, and now the screen changes back to the home screen – the logo of the bank, and the images of the different types of cards accepted: Visa, Mastercard, American Express.

Shit.

I pull my backpack off my shoulders and grab my purse, pulling out another card. I shove it into the slot and silently pray that I know the pin for this one. It’s not my usual card and I usually just tap it on contactless readers. I scour my brain, trying to visualise the four numbers. Incorrect pin. I try another one, swapping round the third and fourth, but no luck. I don’t try again for fear of this card being swallowed up too.