‘This is not a destination but a stage. The stage of consequence where what you do and what you want and what you secretly think will take a tangible shape. Things you will see and experience. Leave before this happens. Continue.’

‘We are going,’ she said, ‘to visit Lady Evelyn’s grave. The three of us.’

‘Only one of you will get there,’ the Hoopoe said. ‘The one who is least distracted. The one who has learnt that to keep going it’s best not to look right or left.’

This confused her, and she started asking why, how come, how did he know? When she got no reply, she wanted to know which one of them it would be. Moni? Salma? Herself? Which one of them would visit that difficult-to-reach place? Say Iman, she begged.

Instead the Hoopoe told her a story. ‘This story is about a landowner from here, from the loch, long before it was called the loch. His name was Nathan and he was a Christian at a time when most people were still pagans. Nathan was hard-working and charitable. He was rich too. His farmlands extended all the way to the river. At one time there was a severe drought, which almost led to famine. Nathan distributed his stored grain to his villagers until he had none for himself. But winter was coming to an end and it was obvious that spring this time would not bring the usual crop of corn. So Nathan turned to the Almighty for help. He fasted and prayed continuously. What can I do? What should I do? These were his questions. The answer came. He must sprinkle the sand of the riverbank on the desolate fields. Nathan ordered that wicker baskets be filled with sand and brought back to the farms. The soft fine sand sank into the earth and everyone witnessed a miracle. They saw the sand germinate and oat and barley start to emerge. In time, the stalks grew and swayed in the wind. Everyone expected a rich harvest and Nathan was a happy man.

‘His standing grew among the villagers. Not the usual respect granted by tenants to their landlords but something else, personal and rare – the awe and reverence that mystics and miracle workers evoke. Nathan began to preach to the villagers. Leave your pagan ways behind. Worship the one true Lord, the Creator, the Sustainer, the Giver. For Nathan, the miracle of the growing crops was proof not only of the truth of what he was saying but of his own elevated, special station in the eyes of the Lord. You should have seen his face the day he set out for the harvest. Flushed with happiness, the eager villagers surrounded him, scythes in hands, already visualising the riches to come, the meals, the celebrations, the overflowing stores. But suddenly the sky darkened, the heavens cleaved open and the river broke its bank in a flash flood. Before their very eyes, the crop was completely destroyed.