She looked again at the line in Omar’s book: ‘ … we look at each other, but we do not see each other any more’. She sighed. How true it was; how often had she missed what was right before her eyes, waiting to be remarked upon, to be noticed, to be discovered. With Amma, with Papa, with Dermot. She looked at the book-mark again; it was very elegant, with a slight ripple to the metal above the etching of the college. It was a thoughtful present; what a nice girl this Jo must be. Shona looked again. Of course, it wasn’t Jo, it was JO. Jim Oakley; it was from Omar’s friend, his best friend at college. He didn’t talk about him much at all. In fact, he hardly mentioned him, but he always seemed so happy to hear from him. His face was an utter picture of joy just now, she couldn’t remember when she had last seen someone so happy. But then she suddenly did; an image flashed back to her, of Dermot walking swiftly down the stairs at Clapham Common tube station, and on seeing her, his face breaking into an expression of pure happiness and relief, as he walked straight into her arms.

Oh my God, thought Shona. Putting the book down, she walked swiftly into the garden for some fresh air, taking deep gulps on the humid terrace. She sat down on the swing, moving herself gently to and fro with her feet. I’ve been deceiving myself, she thought: ‘Je me trompais moi-memê.’

This revelation made everything suddenly very clear to Shona. She saw that the intricate web her family had designed to keep them together, had actually entangled them, and pulled them further and further apart. Her Amma and Papa’s pretence had benefited neither of their children, neither Shona nor Candida, in the end; they should have divorced twenty years ago, when Papa must have met Verity, and Amma had started her affair with Aziz. She thought about what she was doing with Parvez and Dermot, and suddenly felt very cold and very guilty. She’d been judging her parents and, yet again, she was following their lead, their unhealthy pattern of lies and subterfuge. She could no longer argue that it was better for the boys if she and Parvez remained together, unhappily, for appearance’s sake, and she could no longer pretend that it was better for either Parvez or Dermot.