The only thing that Rashid had managed to be consistent at was his work. After a dozen years with the same multinational he had joined in his youth, following many mergers and acquisitions, he found himself a fairly senior figure in the finance department and had to travel widely in the Middle East and Asia. He spent very little time at home, but home now meant very little to him - Henna didn’t care if he was there or not, she didn’t even need him as an appropriate escort to the parties she went to, or as host for her evening soirees, as the still unmarried Aziz was more than happy to oblige in his absence and she clearly preferred his company. Rashid suspected that when he was at home, his presence was an annoyance to Henna - she simply put up with him, as his mere existence enabled her a pleasant life as Mrs Karim. In the same way that she was stuck with him, he felt stuck with her. He had made a deal with her when she was thirteen; when he had accepted the marriage, he had become her guardian as much as her husband. He couldn’t divorce her now, it was much too late, and besides, where would she go? Frankly, he suspected that if he ever broached the subject, he would be the one to move out, such was Henna’s hold on the household, his extended family and all the retainers. They were faithful to her first and then to Aziz, not to him; his constant absenteeism did not help to engender their loyalty. And of course, Shona wasn’t there any more. There was nothing of hers left but some of her old childhood toys, like that eyeless old teddy she had never loved. She had asked the servants to pack up and send on her belongings to London, where she and Parvez had moved after their elopement. She had seized for herself the English life that Rashid had wanted to give her. He hadn’t seen Shona for months now - he guessed that her concerns were all with her husband and his Pakistani family, not with him or even her mother, who were now too distant to matter.