Iman sloshed through wet leaves and little puddles. Every day and every minute, her impatience with Salma and Moni was growing. Tomorrow’s visit to Lady Evelyn’s grave she was looking forward to, but the thought of leaving the loch the day after was unbearable. To get in the car again, with Salma bouncing in the best of moods, smug that they had achieved their objective, with Moni self-righteous that she was a good mother returning to care for her son. Iman did not think she could bear it. She must find a way out. Her instincts led her towards male assistance. Perhaps Mullin could help her. But he would want something in return, they always did. If her alternative to Salma’s house was the women’s refuge in the city, perhaps there was one closer to here? Then at least she would be near the loch and far away from Salma. She did not think she could live in a city any more.

When Moni had mentioned her idea about the three of them opening a clinic, Iman had been able to visualise herself as the receptionist. The one welcoming the patients, taking down appointments, being the first point of contact. But there were bad feelings now between the three of them. And Iman could not stand this atmosphere, it made her feel suffocated.

To be a tree or a squirrel, to be a pond or a fish, to be moving and living. Iman wished for another kind of existence, beauty that wasn’t a responsibility, needs that could be easily fulfilled. Why was I born human? I don’t want it! She walked faster, certain now that she did not want Salma to catch up with her, did not want the sort of conversations aimed at pulling her back to the cosy past. They were on the blue trail, but when Iman came across the next wooden sign dabbed with blue, she hesitated. She could follow it or head in a completely different direction. To stay on the blue trail meant that Salma and Moni would catch up with her. They would find a picnic area, sit down and eat their sandwiches. Moni would fuss over the sandwiches because she had made them. She would expect some show of appreciation or at least acknowledgement for her efforts. How tired Iman was of all this.