By the time I reach the refuge, I am out of breath.
‘That was quick,’ Maureen says, pulling open the door.
‘Is she here?’ I ask, already knowing the answer.
Maureen nods towards the open doorway, where a young woman about my own age sits at the table, beside another slightly older woman, with glossy skin and an expensive coat.
‘This is Dana,’ Maureen says and when the young woman nods in acknowledgement, her lips crack under the weight of frosty-pink gloss, turning up slightly at the corners in an attempt at a smile.
‘And this is Madeleine. Madeleine works at the National Crime Agency,’ Maureen adds and Madeleine nods, her eyes sharp and unreadable as they meet mine.
‘Dana has been working with the organisation to help report suspected instances of trafficking. She has been hugely brave in working with Madeleine, and she thinks she might be able to help you.’
‘I’m not here in an official capacity,’ Madeleine says. ‘Maureen mentioned your enquiries, and I thought of Dana. Maureen tells me you’re a brilliant journalist, and very trustworthy.’
There is a flicker in her expression that tells me she thinks this is an unlikely notion, but she is clearly as in awe of Maureen as I am.
‘Thank you,’ I say and Madeleine shakes her head.
‘I thought it would be good to meet you, put a face to a name. I was in the area anyway.’
Why do I suddenly feel like I am the one who is being investigated? Yet I would have done the same thing in her position. It’s always helpful to try to connect the dots as and when they arise, even if you don’t know yet which ones connect, or how.
My eyes move back to the girl, who drags self-consciously on a cigarette. Finally, Dana clears her throat and looks cautiously towards Maureen before starting to speak.
‘You know, I wonder why you want to do this,’ she says quickly, her eyes locking onto mine. ‘This world that you are prodding at, it is no joke.’
Maureen looks encouragingly at Dana. ‘Isobel just wants to help …’
Sniffing again, Dana flicks her ash into a glass bowl and my eyes catch her tiny wrists; there is a trail of scars along her arm, red and scabbed over. When she catches me looking, she quickly pulls her sleeve back down and I wonder what Madeleine offers her in return for help.
‘There is a woman who meets girls like us in London. She looks after us.’ Dana spits out the final words. ‘Gordana, that’s her name, I don’t know who she is. All I know is that she lives in a flat in Elephant and Castle. They send the girls to her on the promise of work – as a nanny or a cleaner, or maybe in the hope of studying at college.’
Dana’s gaze moves to her hands, her expression unreadable behind thick layers of mascara. ‘But for girls like us there is not such a job. The day I landed in England, he said I’m going to work as a nanny with children …’
‘Who is he?’ I ask.
‘A man,’ she says, holding my look. ‘I met him in Tirana while I was waitressing at a restaurant. He came in every day for two months and we became friends.’
Dana’s voice grows quieter as she speaks. ‘I was hoping to study and he told me he could help me. He said he had friends in England who ran an agency for nannies and that he could help me get a job.’
When she pauses, Maureen leans across and puts a reassuring hand on Dana’s arm. ‘That was a long time ago now.’ Her voice fades out and she picks up the packet of cigarettes and taps it absent-mindedly against the table.
‘After the day I left Albania I never saw him again.’
I leave what I hope is a respectful amount of silence before I speak again. ‘And when you got here, you were met by this Gordana woman?’
Dana pauses before looking down. ‘They gave me a drink with something in it, it knocks you out and then when you wake up it’s hard to focus. There were three men who escorted me onto the boat, they said they had my papers, and then at some point they dropped me off with Gordana.
‘There was another girl there.’ Her eyes move up to mine, slowly. ‘Her name was Eva. She was a Gorani but she spoke a little English, we talked a bit. She was nice. She said she was going to stay with her sister. Then we fell asleep and when I woke up, she was gone.’
Her words hold me in my seat.
After a moment there is a beep and I see Madeleine make a face as she looks down at her phone.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, standing. ‘That’s the person I’m due to meet. I have to go. Isobel, a pleasure to meet you. Maureen assures me that this is all off the record.’
I nod, resenting her attempt at control, but say nothing, and Madeleine smiles, turning to Dana. ‘We’ll speak soon, OK? Thank you, Maureen. No, no, you stay there, I’ll let myself out.’
Once the sound of the clacking of heels followed by the front door closing fades, I hesitate for a moment before speaking again, not daring to meet Maureen’s eye, grateful that the NCA woman has already left. ‘OK. This Gordana woman, do you have an address?’