Henna’s back was to Shona, and her shoulders started shaking as though she had a deep laugh rumbling upwards from her stomach. ‘You stupid, stupid child,’ choked out Henna through the laugh when it finally erupted. For a moment Shona thought that all was well, and that she had simply misunderstood everything. But then she saw that Henna’s laugh was so strong it was bringing her to tears. ‘You’ve fallen out? You’ve fallen out?’ she mocked Shona, imitating her voice cruelly. ‘As though we were children squabbling over a ten-taka note in the gutter. Don’t you realize what this bloody marriage means?’ Shona remained silent, having no idea what had upset her mother so deeply, and not wanting to risk displaying any further ignorance. Her mother had the ability to make her feel very small and simple indeed. Henna took a deep breath. ‘No, of course you don’t. You only think of yourself and your fat Pakistani and your darling father.’ She turned fully to face Shona, who was still standing at the door. ‘Sit down, dear,’ she said, indicating the divan seat. When Shona remained standing, preferring the support of the door, Henna shrugged and explained in a more composed voice, just slightly trembling with anger, ‘It means that I have given that man and his mother the last twenty years of my life, and he repays me by replacing me with another model, and barely a younger model at that!’ Shona held her breath, thinking that Henna must have found out about Verity, but then Henna continued, ‘An ugly spinster, a doctor who thinks she is so special just because she has worked for a living. Hah! She calls that work? That woman has spent her life looking down people’s throats and down her thin nose at real wives and mothers like me.’ She looked earnestly at Shona. ‘You see? He is bringing another woman to this house, usurping my place in our household, and in our society.’