We were unloaded at the ship’s home in Paralia Kimis, Greece. Our army of refugees filed into the coastguard building looking like drowned rats, but feeling like we’d just escaped a mousetrap. In the kitchen, three Greek women were boiling massive pots of tea, hot chocolate, and coffee.

Ayamin sniffed the air, ‘Oh my,’ she said, ‘Hot chocolate!!’

She grabbed my hand and yanked me to the line. In front of us was a steaming, frothing mass of bliss. Aya and I took a hot cup in each hand. We sat in a corner of the kitchen looking out at tired refugees warming themselves in front of heaters. Some dried their hair with towels, couples and families huddled under large woollen blankets.

I turned to Ayamin, the lights of the kitchen flickered a soft orange and yellow on her skin like the light of a campfire. She took a sip of hot chocolate and smiled a little smile of contentment. That’s when I asked:

‘Where next?’

Ayamin rolled her eyes, ‘We just about drowned and already you’re rearing for more.’

I took her hand, and rubbed my thumb along the back of it, her skin was still cold from the sea.

‘Sorry… I just can’t wait to get to England. Fish and chips and pork pie would be heaven right now.’

‘Pork pie? Sounds… kinda gross, but I’ll take your word for it?’

‘Trust me, nothing can beat a steaming pork pie when you’re cold. It gives you that cosy fulfilled feeling.’

We sat in comfortable, worn-out silence for a few minutes. Ayamin leant her head on my shoulder.

The refugee who’d been steering our boat limped over and crouched down beside us.

‘The captain says everyone should get changed, it’s not good to stay in wet clothes.’

I shrugged, looked down at my wet outfit, ‘This is all we’ve got. Our bag was claimed by the sea.’

‘There’s a place to get dry over there,’ he said, pointing to a row of heaters, ‘It’s not good to stay in your wet clothes.’

‘Thanks,’ Ayamin said as he turned to relay the message to a family, ‘You did a good job, to get us that far.’

He turned and held up two fingers next to his red eyes, ‘Two people don’t think so.’

‘What did they say?’ I said, ‘You did the best you could. It’s not your fault the smugglers abandoned us.’

The young man shook his head, ‘They didn’t say a thing. We left with fifty, there are forty-eight trying to get warm.’

He turned from us to the family. Ayamin’s fingertips gripped my hand.

‘Let’s go warm up.’