The three sisters, Cibi, Magda and Livi, sit in a tight circle with their father in the small backyard of their home. The oleander bush their mother has tried so hard to coax back to life droops disconsolately in one corner of the small garden.

Livi, the youngest, at three years old, leaps to her feet: sitting still is not in her nature.

‘Livi, please, will you sit down?’ Cibi tells her. At seven years old, she is the eldest of the siblings, and it is her responsibility to chastise them when they misbehave. ‘You know Father wants to talk to us.’

‘No,’ three-year-old Livi pronounces, and proceeds to skip around the seated figures, giving each a pat on the head as she passes. Magda, the middle sister, and five years old, is using a dry twig from the oleander to draw imaginary figures in the dirt. It is a warm, sunny, summer afternoon. The back door is open, inviting in the heat, while sending the sweet smell of freshly baked bread into the garden. Two windows, one looking into the kitchen, the other into the small bedroom the family shares, have seen better days. Chips of paint litter the ground: winter has taken its toll on the cottage.

The garden gate catches a gust of wind and slams. The catch is broken; yet another thing for Father to fix…

Continue reading the extract here…

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