‘How dare you talk like this! You aren’t thinking about Adam. You want to pretend he doesn’t exist. But he does.’

‘Actually, I am thinking about him growing up where he’s seen as a burden. Where’s your pride, Moni? You’re not wanted in Britain. People see you as a leech benefiting from the free health system.’

‘I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as it’s good for Adam. You just don’t get it.’ She sensed the disapproval of the restaurant gathering around her. Her coffees getting cold. When Murtada started to protest, she said, ‘I can’t talk now, I have to go.’

With trembling hands, she carried the lattes back to the car. She had bought some shortbread too. Salma started to make her way through it, in no great hurry to start driving. Iman didn’t want to eat. She had cramps and the hot drink was comfort enough. Moni felt congested as if the sob threatening to rise from her was a tangible object, stuck in her throat. Even sipping the sweet milky coffee was an effort. Her phone rang. Her first thought was that it was Adam’s nursing home, but it was Murtada again. She rejected the call.

‘Let’s play a game,’ said Salma, enlivened by caffeine and sugar. ‘Just for fun, let’s imagine a hypothetical situation.’ Iman turned to her with a smile. She would play along with her friend. For Moni, though, the delight in Salma’s voice sounded foreign. She craned her head forward to understand.

Salma said, ‘Imagine a hypothetical situation in which you are allowed to commit one sin and get away with it. Only one major sin. It would be wiped clean straight afterwards and would never count against you in this life or the next. What would you do?’

Kill Murtada, thought Moni. No, kill myself. No, kill both Adam and myself. Her eyes filled with tears. She had been counselled once and was told that these fantasies of self-harm were signals that she was exhausted, highly stressed, on the verge of not coping. This was the sort of professional guidance Moni appreciated. No one in Saudi would give her that. Instead she would sit in her nightdress with the air conditioner on full blast watching television while the Filipina maid fetched and carried. Whenever she wanted to go out she would put on her black abaya on top of her nightdress and for many reasons, ranging from lack of wheelchair access to intrusive do-gooders and fools, she would not be able to take Adam with her.

Salma was oblivious to Moni’s mood. She sipped her coffee and mimicked the voice of a TV game show, ‘One chance to do whatever haram you’ve always wanted to do. Free without repercussion. What would it be?’ She turned to look at Iman and said gleefully, ‘I know what I would do. But you say first, Iman.’

Salma was visualising this as a fun activity. Each of them would say something outrageous followed by peals of laughter.