Kiko opened her eyes and wondered for a moment where she was. She looked up at the shelves lining the room, which were groaning under the weight of hundreds of tiny squirrel figurines.

When she had followed the old woman inside the previous evening, Kiko was surprised to find a giant squirrel, taller than herself, standing guard in the hallway. At the time Kiko had covered her mouth, hiding her smile. She didn’t want to disrespect Obaasan’s decorating preferences but she had never seen anything like it.

She rolled over on the thin futon that she’d pushed close to the wall. Her backpack and jacket were hidden under the covers. The air inside the house was thick with a smell Kiko didn’t recognise and it was far too warm for comfort.

‘Boy, where are you?’ Obaasan’s voice screeched through the wall.

Kiko lay still, her eyes heavy and threatening to close again. She could happily have gone back to her dreams.

The door slid open and the old woman appeared beside her, tapping her foot against Kiko’s bottom. ‘You get up.’ She kicked a little harder. ‘The old people are hungry and you are lazy.’

Kiko wondered who these old people were. She was about to sit up when she felt something shift down her back and realised it was her own plaited rope of hair. She snatched up the baseball cap beside her and jammed it onto her head, swiftly tucking the plait underneath. She hoped Obaasan hadn’t noticed.

The woman shuffled out and away down the hall. Insults spewed from her lips as she berated Kiko’s idleness. Except, of course, that she called her ‘boy’ and ‘Yoshi’.

Kiko hurried to the bathroom, where another shelf of squirrels stared at her with their big brown eyes.

‘What are you looking at?’ she whispered, then scampered down the hallway in search of Obaasan.

‘Yoshi!’ the old woman called sharply.

Kiko walked into the kitchen, which was larger than she remembered from the previous evening when the old woman had given her a bowl of noodles. Yet more squirrel figurines were crammed on top of the cabinets. There was a row of medicine bottles too, with labels in large letters. Lined up along a countertop were several trays with bowls of steaming noodles.

‘Where have you been, boy? Why do you take so long in the toilet? Are you baking bread in there?’ Obaasan wrinkled her nose and squinted at Kiko through thick glasses. ‘I hope you washed your hands.’

Kiko nodded.

‘Have you got a tongue?’ the old woman demanded. ‘Never mind. I don’t care if you don’t speak. Probably better not – then I won’t get sick of your voice. Take these.’ She pointed at the noodles.

Kiko noticed several pools of broth slopped onto the trays. She looked around for a napkin or a cloth to mop up.

‘What are you waiting for? The old people will starve to death before you get them breakfast,’ Obaasan tutted. ‘But make sure they go out in order – left to right. Okay?’

Kiko picked up the first tray. She had no idea what the woman meant and she didn’t want to ask.

Obaasan pointed. ‘Through there. The room on the other side of the hall.’

Kiko hesitated, then pushed her shoulder against the kitchen door and walked through. She pushed against the door on the opposite side of the wide entrance hall and was surprised to see a room full of elderly people sitting around a huge table. She was less surprised to see squirrel figurines lining yet another shelf. Obaasan must have had the biggest collection in the whole of Japan. Kiko was unused to such clutter and she was fascinated to think how long it had taken the woman to amass such a huge number of items. Kiko placed the tray on a sideboard and picked up one of the bowls, which she set in front of the woman closest to her.

A man with a shock of white hair shook his head and made a fist. ‘No! You always start down there.’

Kiko quickly picked it up again and walked to the far end of the table. She placed the bowl in front of a woman with a long grey plait wound on top of her head. The old woman looked up at Kiko and smiled.

Kiko carried each bowl separately, determined not to spill any of their contents. A few minutes later the door flew open and Obaasan shuffled into the dining room.

‘What’s taking you so long, boy? He will be dead before he gets his breakfast.’ She pointed a knobbly finger at the gentleman sitting opposite her. The old man guffawed and winked at Obaasan.

Kiko gulped and walked faster, aware of the contents of the bowl sploshing over the sides.

‘She thinks I’m joking,’ Obaasan cackled.

Kiko made several trips back to the kitchen for more noodles. Her own stomach was grumbling. She hoped there would be some food left over.

In the dining room she counted twenty people. Kiko wondered if the place was an inn, but that seemed strange as the clientele were all so old. Most of them looked as if they’d struggle to walk more than a few steps, let alone go travelling. None of them had half the energy of Obaasan and yet she looked older than the lot.

Obasaan reappeared at the doorway. ‘Boy, you take the bowls to the kitchen and wash up. I will get the tea.’

Kiko walked carefully back across the hall into the kitchen with a tray of empty dishes, which she deposited next to the sink. She looked around, unsure what to do next. After rummaging about, she found a plug and turned on the taps, then dumped a stack of bowls into the steaming water.

Noodles floated on top and an oily film created kaleidoscopes on the surface. Kiko plunged her hands into the sink and shuddered. The dishes still felt slimy when she put them on the draining board.

Obaasan returned to the kitchen and shuffled past her.

‘Good boy. Did you find the detergent and put the leftovers in the bucket?’ The old woman squinted. Her nose turned up like a pig’s snout every time she did this.

Kiko looked around and saw a plastic bucket adorned with yet another squirrel motif sitting on the bench. Her eyes scanned the open shelves and fell upon a plastic bottle whose label showed a pair of hands amid a froth of bubbles and a sparkling plate.

Obaasan left the room and Kiko quickly started again.

There had still been no offer of food and Kiko was beginning to feel nauseated. She finished her task and waited for the old woman.

Finally Obaasan returned. ‘Are you hungry, boy?’

Kiko nodded.

‘Then eat!’ she exclaimed. ‘What do you think I am? Your servant? You are young – you can help yourself. Those people in there, they are so old I think the Buddha is their younger brother.’ She cackled at her own joke.

Kiko snatched a clean bowl and filled it with noodles from the stovetop. She sat at the small table in the corner of the room and ate with dainty precision, careful not to spill a drop nor slurp.

‘What? You don’t like my noodles?’ Obaasan sat down with a small cup of tea opposite the girl.

‘I . . . I do,’ Kiko replied.

‘So you have a tongue,’ Obaasan said. ‘Where are you from, boy?’

Kiko did not answer. She wanted to ask about the address in her mother’s diary but it wasn’t the right time. Her stomach knotted at the thought of heading back out into the city. There were so many people and yet she was afraid to ask any of them for help.

‘Did you run away? Are you in trouble? Do you want to take the old people’s money?’ Obaasan grinned, revealing a row of stained teeth.

Kiko shook her head vigorously. ‘No.’ She wondered what the woman was talking about.

‘I’m just joking about the old people. That’s my job,’ she laughed. ‘You full?’

‘Hai,’ Kiko said quietly. She had never met anyone like Obaasan before.

‘Good. Now you get to make beds. Save my old back. I’m glad you were asleep on my doorstep, boy. I like you. You’re helpful and the washing up is not too bad for the first time,’ Obaasan said.

Kiko wondered how she knew it was the first time she’d ever washed up. She’d never made a bed before either but she’d watched it being done and surely it couldn’t be too hard. Obaasan shuffled into the hallway and beckoned for Kiko to follow her. The front hall sat perpendicular to a long hallway that ran the width of the building. Obaasan turned left and walked towards a set of stairs at the end of the corridor. Kiko turned and glanced back at the side door where she’d entered the house the night before. She was surprised to see a huge padlock and another bolt protecting it. Kiko gulped. Perhaps it would not be as easy to leave as she’d thought.