Shona nodded. This was the Papa she knew, tired, anxious and apologetic. He probably didn’t want to see how she lived; it would upset him to see his daughter in a one-bedroom flat in this grimy part of London, however content and independent she professed herself to be. ‘I suppose that I’ll see you lots more in the UK if you get this job. Amma says you’ll be travelling to and from here all the time. You can see the flat when you’re next in town. Parvez will be sorry to have missed you.’

As Ricky went to leave, still looking at his watch, barely looking back at his daughter, Shona again misread his distraction for sorrow. She ran up to him and hugged him tightly at the doorway, protesting furiously, ‘I’m very happy, Papa. Please don’t think that I’m not. Parvez looks after me, I don’t want for anything. I really couldn’t be happier.’

Surprised by her vehemence, wondering what had brought it on, Ricky answered, ‘I believe you, Jaan. I believe you are.’ It made it easier for him to believe his daughter was happy and no longer needed anything from him, as it made it easier for him to ease himself away from her embrace and towards the phone box a safe distance away, knowing that on the other side of London, Verity was sitting listlessly in her office, waiting for his call.

Ricky eventually decided to take Verity for dinner at Rules off the Strand and, on seeing her discomfort, wished he’d chosen somewhere a little less stuffy. But once ensconced in a cosy booth, her boxy navy-blue jacket removed to reveal a pretty dress, the generous helpings and good wine helped her unwind. Verity found Ricky a disarmingly good listener, he seemed to hang on her every word, and she found herself opening like a flower, telling him about her past, about Pete and the one before who was just like Pete.

‘I just wish I’d been less naive and stupid about it all. I’m almost thirty-eight, and I’ve wasted most of my life with people who didn’t really care.’ She looked at Ricky, who was nodding sympathetically, and apologized, ‘Goodness, listen to me. You shouldn’t let me go on so much. You haven’t told me anything about you yet.’

There’s not much to tell,’ said Ricky honestly, refilling her glass courteously. ‘I had an arranged marriage when I was very young, which didn’t work out. And I’ve been alone for a very long time. Too long, really. I’m forty-three, and I feel like I’ve wasted most of my life by not being with someone who cared, or whom I could care for.’ Ricky smiled ruefully. ‘I guess that’s something we have in common.’