Cold seeped into her limbs as the breath from her sobs erupted in clouds of vapour curling under her hanging head. She wasn’t sure if she could take any more, but going back meant facing him. An icicle stabbed through her.

“You okay, chick?” A woman’s voice. Jian looked up. Standing opposite the bench on which she sat was a tall white woman. She seemed to be made of shadows, all darkness and shifting folds of fabric, except her eyes, which were gas-flame blue. The woman stepped forward into the light cast by the row of takeaway shops on the other side of the low railings surrounding the park. “Hi, I’m Lucy. You’re Jian Zhang and I’m here to help.”