She read out a letter written from Lady Evelyn to Toby. ‘I was so pleased to get your letter, my first post since I left London which seems years ago . . . I have now got permission from the King to do my Pilgrimage – I will be the first European woman to enter the sacred Cities – but it means that I won’t be home again till towards the end of April – so you must arrange for your holidays . . . I’ll write Grant to put the two housemaids back in case you want to go there for a bit.’

For reasons she could not understand, the letter moved Moni, even though she had read it before. She felt tears welling up as she steadied her voice to explain. ‘Grant was the gamekeeper at Glencarron. At the time of this letter, Toby was seventeen years old. He was still at boarding school.’ She sensed a restlessness in Adam and put the book away. It was time for him to leave.

She gave him most of the baked cookies to take home with him. She covered them in cling film and put them in a plastic bag. He would have to walk in the rain and that made her feel ever so sorry for him, grateful that he had come to see her.

After he left, she went to check up on Salma. Having given up on counselling Iman, she had turned, since yesterday, to Salma. They shared a room after all and it was natural to lie on the second bed and converse or come in and out asking after her.

‘Shall I bring you something to eat? There is rice and aubergine stew.’ Moni knew by now that there was no point in offering the freshly baked cookies to Salma.

Salma shook her head. She lay on her back with her arm across her face. This was a way to hide the tears.

‘But you haven’t eaten all day,’ said Moni. She remembered the raw food diet that Salma had been following on and off. ‘Shall I get you the nuts you like? Or some grapes.’

‘I had some earlier.’ Her voice was thicker, slow. ‘Thanks for getting me the water.’

Moni felt sorry for her. ‘Salma, you’re not yourself. What’s wrong with you?’

The tears rolled down Salma’s face. She could not hide them any more. ‘I know this sounds stupid. It sounds stupid to me, but when I think of all the time that’s passed and how I can’t get it back . . . I want to undo things and I can’t. How do I pull my children back so that they’re little again? It can never happen. I just have to keep on, keep on, but for how long? Everyone is thinking this, I am sure. If people spoke the truth they would admit how sad it is to get old.’