The dogs barked as Salma and Iman approached. The encounter could not be avoided, but that they were heading for the grave did not elicit surprise. ‘Another mile,’ said the man who was crunching the apple. ‘When you see the shooting lodge ahead of you, the grave would be up to your left.’ Iman cooed over the puppy. She knelt to stroke it, declaring that she had fallen in love with it, making the men smile. Salma reminded Iman that they must keep going. Iman, standing up, did not hide the fact that she was reluctant to leave.

The path twisted and, looking back, they could no longer see the men with their car. They speculated about them. So, they were the deer hunters, but what were they doing just standing there with a jeep? Were they waiting for a signal about the whereabouts of the deer? Were they already done for the day? Their hunting clothes had made them look as if they were from another century, but it was because they belonged to a different tradition, a way of life that Salma and Iman would never know. And yet Lady Evelyn had known this life, was part of it. Worlds intersecting, overlapping. Above them, the clouds separated and a shaft of sunlight touched the mountains like in religious paintings.

Iman started talking about a sign she had seen near the car park. ‘A hostel, and the sign said, “help needed”.’

Salma didn’t reply.

Iman went on, ‘I want to go back and ask about this position. Maybe it would include lodging too. My things are in the car. I could just stay on.’

Salma felt the same sense of rejection as before. So, Iman hadn’t changed completely, hadn’t put away her reluctance to return with her to the city. Better humour her this time. Let her ask and, nine out of ten, it would come to nothing. ‘Sure, no harm trying. You can ring the doorbell and enquire when we get back,’ she said.

‘Those two men could give me a ride back in their car. It would save time.’

‘What a crazy idea!’

‘I can say the Fatiha for Lady Evelyn from here, I’m close enough. It’s just as good as reaching the grave.’

They argued back and forth, but Salma felt calm, a little detached. She did not want to squander her energy, she did not want to tarnish the journey. No ugly words or recriminations. No tears. If Iman already felt as if she had reached her destination, Salma couldn’t force her to keep going. They would all meet later at the car.