‘Well, what’s to think about?’ she said impatiently. Rashid was so slow sometimes. ‘They’ll pay for your flight, yes? And your accommodation there? So you should go for the interview and see Shona and that Pakistani. Take them some presents, so they think we’re not cross any more. Tell her to come home occasionally -people are beginning to talk. And you can buy me a raincoat from Burberry - Farida has one and is always showing off about it.’

‘But what if I get the job?’ asked Rashid, not sure that Henna had been listening.

‘Well, you might get lucky, but don’t get your hopes up,’ said Henna, with a tone that was meant to be kind, before barking ‘Cholo!’ to the waiting driver. ‘I really have to go now.’

Rashid followed her outside, and with natural politeness held the door open for her as she elegantly stepped into the back of the enviably air-conditioned Rover that he had so recently vacated. ‘But what about the travel, and being based in the UK?’

‘Rashid, you travel three days a week anyway. No one’s going to notice if you travel a bit more,’ Henna said with unconscious cruelty, shutting the door to signal an end to the conversation.

Rashid watched the car speed off. That had actually gone better than he thought it would - Henna had practically encouraged him to go for the job. Looking back towards the veranda, he saw his mother looking down at him with woeful, accusatory eyes. He decided that braving the sticky night was the better of the two evils. ‘Hey, Ammie, I’m going to meet Aziz at the club,’ he shouted to her with barely concealed cowardice, and walked swiftly out of the gate to the street before she could object, hailing his own rickshaw and letting the damp dust of the street settle in the creases of his good suit.