As he bathed and got dressed, the thought of choosing a lunch venue cheered him up considerably. But before that, he had to subject himself to yet another walk. He had come to the conclusion that this city required way too much walking. After this London holiday, he didn’t want to go for another walk for a year or two.

‘Jai? Are you ready?’ called his grandmother.

‘I’m coming, Badi Ma,’ sighed Jai.

Jai slipped on his sweatshirt and joined Toshi at the dining table for breakfast.

‘I was thinking that we could go to that recreation ground nearby for a walk today. What do you think?’ asked Toshi, as they sat down to a breakfast of cereal and milk.

‘How’s your arthritis, Badi Ma? Aren’t your joints hurting at all?’ Jai asked hopefully.

Toshi gave him a knowing look. ‘I’m deeply touched by your concern, Jai,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye.

As Adeela loaded the dishwasher after breakfast, she glanced at her sister, who seemed a little preoccupied.

‘Is everything all right, Humaira Aapa?’

‘Huh? Yes . . . yes, everything is fine.’

‘Where is Bhaijaan? Did he not want to have breakfast this morning?’

‘He had a cup of tea and left with Inaya. She has some practice games today.’

‘Inaya mentioned something about him sleepwalking again last night?’

Humaira sighed deeply. ‘It’s something that we just have to live with. I don’t think that will ever leave us.’

‘It’s been so many years. Why don’t you seek some help while you’re here, Aapa? There’s no shame in doing that . . . ’

Humaira stiffened at the mere suggestion.

‘Everything is fine, Adeela,’ she repeated, using ‘that voice’ that Inaya had also heard ever so often.

‘I think I need to use the toilet, Badi Ma,’ panted Jai, after his fourth lap around the walking track with his grandmother.

‘Okay, I’ll wait here for you,’ said Toshi.

Jai walked slowly towards the restrooms. He didn’t really need to go—he merely wanted to squander time until they could leave for lunch, instead of pointlessly circumambulating that track.

While Toshi waited for Jai to return, she gently rotated her head from side to side to release the stiffness in her neck that her arthritis sometimes caused. As she swivelled her neck to her left, she noticed a man collapse and fall to the ground, a short distance away. Toshi looked around. There was no one else in sight. She quickly walked over and helped the man to his feet. As he stood up, Toshi recognized him as the man she had met at Nabeel’s Kitchen. The Pakistani. He looked at her and smiled weakly, in recognition.

‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘I could get you some water from that café . . . ?’ she indicated the café, which was about fifty metres away.