Arrival

“We’ve given you the biggest room,” said Jeff, an Italian with an American father who I’m managing the centre with (he’s responsible for activities, me for teaching). When he opened the door I saw a triangle with a corner snipped out, a single bed taking up half of the smaller side, a low desk the whole of the bigger one. There was a mirror and an empty noticeboard on the wall, a window with a close-up view of a tree, more drawers than I knew what to do with, and a wardrobe with no hangers.

The wardrobe was almost as big as the bathroom. All white, all plastic, there was a lowered floor for the open shower, a sink I could just about fit my hand in, a bolt on the door a centimetre too low to fit anywhere, and a toilet roll dispenser without any toilet roll. “Take your time,” he said, “have a shower and unpack. The most important thing is food. There’s only one place nearby - a Tesco at the gas station.”