Mama holds her free hand out to stop Aminah from speaking, as if the very action could halt the words that have already tumbled out of her mouth. ‘No,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘No.’

The silver branches are awake. They sway to and fro, watching over Aminah and Mama.

The pair now sit at the kitchen table, and Aminah explains everything.

There’s an exchange programme. She could finish school in England and go to university there too. Her grades are good enough. More than good enough.

Mama shakes her head. ‘This is ridiculous. How are you supposed to look after yourself?’

‘It’s a boarding school. You live with the other students and –’

‘Enough,’ Mama says. ‘I’m not listening to this. You’re not going to this school and you’re not doing this play.’

‘Why not?’ Aminah demands, standing up all of a sudden. The chair flies backwards, bouncing across the room. ‘You can’t just make up rules; you need a reason for them.’

The silver branches hiss, as if they’re trying to warn Aminah.

‘And you need to learn to control your temper,’ Mama says, her voice just as loud.

I realize now that this is where the monster was born. Here, in this room. The silver branches try to protect the house; they surround the walls and cover the windows with their claw-like limbs, but the monster’s too strong. The window breaks. Glass shatters across the room, and a great black fog surrounds Aminah and Mama, threatening to swallow them up. It’s so thick I feel I might suffocate.

‘Like you?’ Aminah says. ‘Baba has already said yes, by the way, I spoke to him.’

That seems to throw Mama off guard. ‘What would he know?’ she spits. ‘He’s never here.’

‘Maybe because he doesn’t want to be around you!’ Aminah stomps about like she’s three years old again and her favourite toy has been taken away.

‘Do not speak to me like that,’ Mama says. ‘I’ve had enough of this conversation. Go to bed.’

‘That’s what you do, isn’t it?’ Aminah sneers. ‘When you don’t want to have a conversation you send us to bed. Well, I’m not a child. I can go to bed whenever I like. And I will keep acting in the play and go to England, no matter what you say.’

‘You will not,’ Mama says, though she seems to have lost her conviction. ‘I know what I’m talking about . . .’

Aminah raises her eyebrows.

‘Really? All you did was get married. You’ve never had a job. You haven’t done anything with your life, so you want to stop me living mine.’

The light in Mama’s eyes has disappeared and a sad grey cloud replaces it, like the smoke that lingers after a fire dies.