‘It wasn’t the dog that frightened her,’ said Salma. She was speaking for Iman so that her friend could feel babied and cosseted, looked after and safe. ‘Iman loves animals, don’t you, sweetie?’

Iman didn’t reply. But she looked straight at Salma as if she were hanging on every word.

Salma went on, ‘My children have been nagging they want a dog.’

‘Don’t give in,’ said Moni.

‘They promise they would look after it. Take it for walks, give it baths, take it to the vet, but I don’t believe them.’

‘You’ll be doing all that,’ said Moni.

‘That’s what I thought. Why add to my chores?’

‘And don’t forget having to renew your wudu every time the dog touches you.’

‘No, licks you. It’s a misunderstanding. Its saliva is what is impure, not its fur.’

‘I had no idea. Iman, did you know this?’

Iman turned to look at Moni. ‘What?’

Moni repeated her question.

‘Yes,’ said Iman.

Moni and Salma exchanged looks. Salma said, ‘You had a cat, didn’t you, Iman?’

‘Did you?’ Moni smiled. ‘Nothing wrong with cats. They’re clean. What happened to it?’

‘Got lost,’ said Iman. ‘Maybe stolen.’

‘You think someone stole it?’ Salma leant her back against the sofa. ‘You didn’t tell me at the time.’

‘There was a group of teenagers in the building. Hanging around smoking joints in the backyard. I caught them frightening her once. Being mean. Maybe they stole her.’

‘Whatever for?’ said Moni, and the other two didn’t reply. She shifted gear. ‘I know a job Iman would be good at.’

‘What job?’ Salma sounded possessive.

‘A receptionist.’

‘A receptionist? Where?’

‘At our clinic.’

‘What clinic?’

‘I’m thinking of this idea,’ said Moni. ‘The three of us could start a business together. A massage clinic for women. I have some savings that I can invest, and I can manage the business side. Iman would be the receptionist and you, Salma, could do exactly what you’re doing now, but then you’d be working for yourself. What do you think?’

Every massage therapist contemplated becoming self-employed. Choosing her own clients and her own hours. But Salma was surprised by Moni’s idea. The three of them working together, Iman as the receptionist. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Her voice sounded a little stiff, her smile not genuine.

‘I can be a receptionist,’ said Iman. It would be a role, a costume she could put on.

‘There you go!’ Moni said to Salma. It was as if she had scored a massive point or won another board game.

Salma looked at Iman. ‘You would be the best receptionist ever.’ She sounded more patronising than sincere.

‘But seriously, Salma,’ said Moni. ‘Aren’t you uncomfortable massaging men? Are you even sure it’s allowed, did you ask?’