When Iman took off her hijab, Salma took it personally, as if Iman was rejecting her, turning away towards another ideal, ditching all that they had shared. Alone, she found herself in tears, shocked and speechless as if betrayed. She did not fight back or try to argue with Iman. Instead she caved in and, quite unlike herself, experienced for the first time what she would have identified in others as low-grade depression. The reluctance to get out of bed, the disinterest in jogging and the constant dragging down of anxiety and guilt. Glimpsing Iman in the grounds of the monastery among other people caused a surge of envy. Iman’s hair was shining and luxuriant; with the new haircut, the ends bounced round her ears. Instead of approaching her friend with a greeting, Salma ducked out of the way to avoid coming face-to-face with her.

Careful to avoid Iman even in the cottage, she found herself turning more towards Amir, towards their shared past, a time of certainties and hopes. The regret that she had married David and moved to Britain began to gather into an emotion, almost a fact. She had made a mistake. Amir was her ideal mate, her home city the true beloved, medicine her rightful vocation. She was forty-five and her life was a mistake. A mistake that could be rectified, or perhaps it was too late and it could not be rectified. That was what she considered as she lay down staring at the ceiling. Pull out now or go on knowing that you are living out a sentence. Which option was doable, which option was the right one? Then the sound of Iman up in the attic would bring her back to the loch and she would register how Iman now came and went without telling her, without urging her to join her, without checking up first on what she wanted to do.

Moni clashed with Iman. Right was right and wrong was wrong, and Moni was confident of her position. She lectured Iman on the need to be mindful of Salma. In this country, who else did she have to look after her, except Salma and David? Whatever she did, Iman must not jeopardise her relationship with them, and taking off her hijab wasn’t helpful. Moni surprised herself by caring. It had been a long time since anything had penetrated her bond with Adam or was even able to distract her from him. Briefly, she was released and found herself sounding like her old self: the Moni who worked in the bank, who followed and gave orders, who understood the legal structures, the stock options and the fluctuations in interest rates. This was the same Moni who now faced Iman. It mattered little to her that Iman was not responding, not budging from her position; she was not even following Moni’s arguments. Moni was flexing a muscle she had thought long atrophied. It made her feel better.